Casus Belli
by Fluidfyre
Summary: With Kirkwall in their shadow, roguish Marian Hawke and her band of miscreants and mages strive to find purpose - or a drink - in the ensuing chaos. Preferably without dying. Post DA2.
1. CH 1: No Peace

**A/N: Though this is a sequel to my other DA2 story (Anathema's Anchor) it should read well enough on its own too. Takes place immediately Post-DA2. I appreciate any feedback, and am happy to share my work hehe hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p>Dead templars, mages, and abominations littered the streets as Marian Hawke hurried to Hightown with Bethany and Anders at her side. The night was waning and the city guard rushed to find order around them. Kirkwall had become proficient at barricading itself. People knew well enough to cringe inside their homes - the qunari invasion had taught them that. Smouldering debris littered the market streets and a fuchsia haze hung in the sky where the chantry once stood.<p>

Finally opening the front door of her estate, Hawke was nearly bowled over by her mabari, whose defensive growl faded into a series of plaintive barks.

"Good boy, your grace," Hawke said, laying a hand on his head.

"I missed you too," Bethany said as she collapsed into a chair, the licks and nuzzles from the massive hound lightening her expression momentarily. She laid the dragon-headed staff against the mantle.

"M'lady, where have you been?" Bodahn roused with a lamp in hand from where he had sat on watch by the fire. "Sandal and Orana have retired, but I couldn't rest knowing you were out there. With what happened to the chantry..."

Hawke exchanged a glance with Anders. "We're alive. Thank you, Bodahn."

"I - I'll gather things we need," Anders replied, averting his gaze. He disappeared upstairs.

Bethany threw her arms around the mabari as he put his paws up on the chair, squeezing tight as she shuddered and bit her lip.

"Miss Bethany... you're here, not in - there were templars in the street." Bodahn 's brow furrowed as he ran a hand down his beard. "Your mabari protected us again."

"That's his job," Hawke chuckled, and moved past them to open one of the chests by the fire and pull out a map, bow and a satchel with her flasks and other nefarious tools. The mabari whimpered behind her, laying his head on Bethany's shoulder as she choked on a sob. Hesitating, Hawke snagged a bottle from the table, pulled the cork out and took a glug. "But I'm afraid he won't be able to protect you anymore. He's coming with us."

"Will you be gone long, messere?"

"You could say that," Hawke said under her breath, taking another sip. She corked the bottle and tossed it onto the table. On second thought, she took it up and drank again. "We need to flee the city. You won't see us again after tonight."

Bodahn shook his head and took a step towards her. " Surely things cannot be so grim. Stop and think this through, messere!"

Hawke chuckled and hit open a concealed panel on her desk to retrieve the pouch of gold within. "Something tells me that's probably not the best idea. I find that limiting how much I actually think is the best practise."

"What has happened?" Bodahn asked, frowning.

Anders entered the foyer, dropping the packs he'd collected and disappearing into the library. Leaning on her hands, Hawke hung her head. "It's best if you don't know. They will come looking for us, and I'd rather you not suffer because of my actions."

"Milady..."

"Perhaps you and Sandal will end up in the court of Empress Celine sooner than later. You were planning on leaving within the year, yes?"

"We were," he said, dropping his hands as he watched her continue to gather things.

"Sooner than later," Hawke repeated and put a hand on his shoulder. She produced a number of coins from her purse. "Your debt to me is paid, Bodahn. It was paid long ago. Please tell Orana she is free to stay here, and that she has served me well."

"Messere, you must tell her. She will go to pieces - she is most faithful to you as a servant," Bodahn protested.

"I know," Hawke said, closing her eyes as she strode across the room to follow Anders into the library. "But there is no time. We all need to walk on our own two feet eventually. Or like myself, run."

* * *

><p>The Hanged Man was quiet in the wee hours of the morning as Hawke sat beside Varric,. She nursed a glass of whiskey as they looked over the map laid before them.<p>

"I don't know," was all Hawke said, staring emptily at it. Anders laid his hands on her shoulders and she leaned forward, staring blankly over the leather map. They had fought templars over there - and that was where Hadriana had died. Where Aveline and Donnic had first patrolled before they fell in love. Where could they possibly go that they had not been - that the templars would not search for them?

Fenris sighed and leant over the table, stabbing a finger down into the northern hills. "There is an abandoned manor I stayed at when I first fled to Kirkwall - here. It's rather isolated."

"Yes, nearly a decade ago, of course it will still be abandoned," Anders said, shaking his head.

"We wouldn't be in this mess if not for you, mage, so bite your tongue," Fenris replied, crossing his arms to pace. "There were unnatural creatures there. I did not stay long as a result."

"Other suggestions?" Hawke asked, taking a deep drink. She'd been in her armour too long now. She felt like a soldier in the army again. A directionless, inexperienced, frightened young woman. If only she didn't have the scars to prove otherwise. Varric pried the glass from her fingers, and she smacked her lips. "We have the coin, we needn't avoid the towns just yet. Buy out an inn. There are allies here and here - people who helped us, yes?"

Anders shrugged and looked down. "There may be. Things have gotten worse the last year. I wouldn't want to bring attention upon them."

"No, of course not," Hawke replied, rubbing her face.

"We'll do alright, no matter where we go," Merrill said, shifting from one foot to the other. She looked down. "We did the right thing."

"Of course we did," Anders replied. "It is always better to stand on your feet and say no to those who would demand you slaughter innocents." All eyes turned to him, and he hunched and sank into a chair alongside Hawke.

"No matter if it was right or whatever, we don't have much choice now, Blondie," Varric said, running a hand through his hair. He looked haggard. "Just have to get out of the damned city and out of the templars' way."

"That sounds like the story of my life," Hawke chuckled, looking into her glass. She took Bethany's hand. The young woman was sitting by the fire and staring emptily at it. "We'll head – Aveline, almost thought you weren't going to join us."

The captain of the guard stood in the doorway, and she tread into the room carefully. "I – I'm not."

Hawke choked on her reply, "What?"

"This is my home – this is Donnic's home," Aveline said, her expression strained.

"It was my home too," Hawke replied, furrowing her brow. "It was all of our homes."

"I know," Aveline said, pacing as everyone stared. "But someone has to stay behind and try to clean up the mess you've made."

"I don't want you to come under fire for this," Hawke said, putting her drink down.

"Now you say that?" Aveline crossed her arms. "They wanted you and Anders more than any of us. So long as you're gone… I think we'll make it. The people of this city need me more than you now." She tucked her chin down and looked away. "I still can't believe what you did, Anders."

"Things will change," he replied. "You'll see."

"For ill or will," Aveline said, looking down at him.

Hawke shook her head as Bethany shifted, before saying, "What will you do then, Aveline? Are you going to send the templars after us?"

"Flames, after all these years you think I'd do that?"

"No," Hawke said, smirking, "But it's nice to hear it."

"Then your secret's bloody well safe with me," Aveline said, turning to go.

Hawke was on her feet. "Wait! You can't just leave."

The guard captain dropped her hands, which were balled into loose fists. "Isn't it better if I don't know anything about what you're going to do? I know they'll question me – it wasn't a secret we're friends."

"Come on, I know you can take anything they'd do to try and get you to talk," Hawke said, smiling despite her fatigue. "You'll even protect Donnic."

"Like always," Varric chimed in.

"Maybe the Champion of Kirkwall died in the uprising." Aveline's smirk faded as she looked between them. "I've just never been one for goodbyes. Seems easier to think the people we care for are always there – just out of sight, you know?"

Hawke put out her hand, tilting her head. "You know me, I'd rather not be seen anyway."

Shaking her head and closing her eyes, Aveline took Hawke's hand and drew her into a hug. "Even if my life might be easier without you, you will be missed. Still can't believe what you've gotten yourself into."

"Just a legend in the end," Hawke murmured, clapping her back before stepping aside to let Bethany embrace Aveline.

"Would have been nice to see more of you," Aveline said, squeezing Bethany's hands and dropping her voice. "Time may not heal the pain, but you get used to carrying it."

"Thank you," Bethany whispered, turning her reddened eyes away.

Aveline inhaled sharply, stepping back by the door to look at them all. "We'll meet again in better days."

"Of that I've no doubt, Red." Varric smirked as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Agh," she muttered and almost smiled. Shaking her head, she pulled the coin purse from her hip. Smacking it on the table, she turned and marched out.

Hawke sighed and stood there a moment, before snagging the coin purse from Varric's reach.

"I was just going to hold onto it for safekeeping!" the dwarf said defensively.

"I wouldn't want you to strain yourself," Hawke murmured, slipping it into a hidden pocket in her trousers.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to my beta reader for this story, Rovinierre - she's helped me ID some weak points! Much appreciated!<em>


	2. CH 2: Out of the Frying Pan

The hills were not a friendly place, but the clouds that hung over their departure from the city burned away as the sun climbed in the sky. The gaping hole left in Hightown was all the more visible from their vantage; a cavity in a jagged mouth of buildings. They walked until the evening shadows fell, as far into the hills as they could make it before collapsing with fatigue. Sitting at the edge of camp, Hawke wrapped her arm around Bethany and looked over the landscape.

"I'm glad to finally get you out into the world again," Hawke murmured, the rocks under them still radiating warmth from the day.

"I suppose I should be grateful," she said softly, empty eyes looking beyond the foothills.

"At least we're not on the run because of you for once?" Hawke said, arching her brow and looking at her sister.

Bethany's expression faltered and she nodded, looking down as she turned a ring on her finger. She closed her eyes to keep the tears in, shuddering until she covered her face.

"I thought you two might want a bit to eat," Anders said as he approached, and Bethany snagged Orsino's staff from behind her and stood up. "You don't need to leave because of me."

"He's dead because of you," Bethany said, trembling as she looked away. Her voice was laced with tears as she added, "None of this would have happened."

"I'm sorry…" Anders faltered as she walked back to camp, watching her slump down on a bed roll beside their mabari. The dog lifted his head, harrumphing some before nuzzling into the woman.

"He made a poor choice," Hawke said, and Anders sat down beside her.

"I know," he replied, opening the cloth and breaking off a bit of the dried meat for her. "Can't really fault her for blaming me. Sorry seems inadequate."

"I haven't told her what I heard Orsino say before he… changed," Hawke said, biting off the tough meat. She chewed a bit, sucking on the salt before saying, "Do you remember the letters we found when my mother was killed? About the mage down there?"

"A little," Anders said, putting his hands in his lap. Hawke took one of them and placed it on her thigh. "Necromancy and that. Rare books."

"Quentin," Hawke said quietly, though her voice was tempered steel. "Orsino spoke of Quentin when he summoned the demons into himself and became that thing. He spoke of the mage who killed our mother."

"Maker's breath," Anders sighed, closing his eyes as he squeezed her thigh.

"He knew what that bastard was doing," Hawke whispered, looking back to the fire. "He knew how mother died. And he still had the gall to love her - to break her heart like this. I just want to tell her, so maybe hate can take the place of pain… but I can't."

"Wouldn't you want her to tell you?"

"Yes," Hawke replied, smoothing her thumb over his hand. "But she's not me. What sort of big sister would I be if I did that to her? I need to stick to pulling her hair and pushing her in the mud if I'm going to be mean."

"You're too kind," he murmured.

"I know, I know," Hawke said with a sigh, pulling herself into him and closing her eyes. "Thank you for not getting yourself killed, despite trying so hard."

"Well, thank you for not killing me," Anders replied.

"Too many other idiots to kill first," she muttered. Hawke felt him shake his head. "Right, it's better if I say 'you're worth it' or something like that?"

"Something like that."

Had it only been a day? It was surreal that the world could change so much in such a short span of time.

Anders laid his cheek atop her head, looking back the way they'd come. The ghostly forms of sheep were visible on the hills in the low light, grazing on the upper slopes in the warmth of summer. It had been more than a year since he hadn't felt the insistent anxiety of Justice's drive within. It might not be peace – but it was something. He would take the spirit's satiation for the time being.

"Was this always your plan?" Hawke asked quietly.

"Not always," Anders replied, drawing his fingers through her hair. It ended quickly – she had cut it prior to leaving the city. It had never been so short. "But it came to be the only means I could see. Good people have died no matter which angle you look at it. Elthina wouldn't do anything – she had the power, but she wouldn't act. What greater negligence can there be?"

"I don't judge you for it, Anders," Hawke said, sitting up more.

"But I do," he said, weight in his words. "Even if Justice does not seek me."

"Already found you, I'd say," she replied, and sighed slowly. "Maybe it makes me a terrible person, but what hurts me in the end is that you kept it from me."

"I know."

"Things we've already said," Hawke answered for him. They sat in silence looking at the darkening hills. "I suppose I've learnt you need to hear things a few times. I love you. That hasn't gone away."

"Thank you," he said strained to say.

"I'll yell at you more when we're somewhere safe?" Hawke said, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning her chin on them.

* * *

><p>"Don't come any closer," the man called out as Hawke paused on the crest of the hill. He raised his staff and a protective nimbus enveloped him and the children near him.<p>

"That's the Champion," another mage beside him said, and the woman got up. "And Bethany."

The man let his aura down. "Thank the Maker."

"Helena, it's good to see some of you made it out of the city," Bethany said, advancing to embrace each of them, before kneeling to hug the children. Their mabari trotted over to nuzzle them. "And you two, as well. This must be quite the adventure."

"The templars almost saw us," the young girl replied, tentatively touching the hound before it slobbered her. "Does that mean we have to go back to the Gallows now?"

"No," Anders said, the breeze ruffling his feathered coat. "You never have to go back to that place again. Or anywhere like it."

"I don't know where we'll go," Helena said, knotting her hands together. "I still can't believe what's happened. Did…" She dropped her voice, and the male mage came closer too, "Did they kill everyone? Did Meredith lock down again?"

Hawke glanced to her companions before saying, "The Knight-Commander is dead. We killed her."

Helena sighed a bit of relief, looking at the man beside her before hugging him tightly, and almost laughing. "And the First Enchanter?"

Bethany's expression darkened, and she corralled the two children before clearing her throat. "Let's go spot some useful herbs. See over there? Come, your grace."

Exhaling, Hawke watched her go before saying, "He – he's dead. He… became an abomination."  
>"Maker, no," the male mage said, expression crumbling.<p>

"The templars and Meredith pushed him to the extreme," Anders said. "They were killing everyone, he did it to stop them… to let the rest of us escape."

Helena's eyes glistened a moment before she looked away. "I don't know how she's standing. I... We must do as he wished then. The world must know."

"But where, Helena?" The man asked, starting to pace and knot his hands in his auburn hair. "How will we do anything?"

"I was captured later on," Helena replied, hardening her posture. "We'll get by. We'll take care of the children, and stay out of public eye."

"And out of Orlais," Anders said, lips in a line. "They were already considering marching on Kirkwall, who knows what armies the Divine gathers."

Hawke took Helena's hand, pulling coin from her purse to press into her hand. "Change as soon as possible. Your staves should be alright, but you need to be inconspicuous. You can find food alright?"

"Yes, magic has many uses." Helena said, closing her fingers on Hawke's hand. "Thank you, Champion. This is because of you. None of us would have survived without you."

* * *

><p>"Oh shut up already, Varric," Hawke whispered, sitting in the tree at the edge of the glade.<p>

"I just want to know, how come I never saw you with a bow?"

"You weren't with me all the time," Hawke whispered carefully, holding the bow on her thigh as she watched the grasses. "I like getting up close and personal if I'm going to kill a man."

"Seems messy," Varric muttered.

"You must be quite poor with a blade then?"

"What gave that away, my nimble legs?" Varric said, shifting in the branches. The tree creaked and he stopped moving. "Besides, I could never do that to Bianca."

"Mmm," Hawke replied, raising a hand as she saw distant movement.

"I'm honestly impressed, is all," Varric said, and the hind in the distance darted away through the trees.

"I'll be more impressed if you shut your m – damn it, Varric!" Hawke lowered her bow, leaning into the weight of the tree. "Someone has to feed us, you know. Unless you don't mind becoming cannibals?" She grabbed a branch and swung nimbly out of the tree.

"Sorry!" Varric grumbled and did his best to get down. He was perched on the lowest branch. "I'm not used to sodding roughing it like this. And here we are, out and about, and you're just shooting and trapping animals for us."

"I didn't grow up in a city, I thought you'd have picked up on that," Hawke said, reaching up to help him down. She snorted and hid her laughter.

"Not a word, woman," Varric said as she put him on the ground. "I suppose I always pictured you as a meek farmer or something like that."

"Hah!" Hawke shook her head, shouldering her bow as she pointed through the trees the way they'd come. "I thought you'd be more useful with your crossbow."

"What can I say, my place is usually just killing what you tell me to," he murmured, striding after her.

"Mm, good to know," Hawke replied. "Hopefully our traps have had more luck than us."

Trekking back towards camp, they chatted idly and it was only when a cry of alarm distracted that they took off.

"They can't have tracked us already," Varric grumbled, struggling to keep up with Hawke's long legs.

"Well, be sure to tell them that," Hawke grunted, and she flew into the copse of trees, with her daggers at the ready – just in time to see Fenris stab his sword down through a templar. Varric bent over to huff for air as she said, "Only one?"

Anders relaxed his staff and went to the templar's side, flipping the scarf tied on his arm. "A scout. It means they'll be more nearby."

"Perhaps it was just luck," Merrill said with a lopsided expression. "I always stumbled on the oddest things out of the blue."

"Like demon statues," Varric murmured in a cough, waving a hand as Hawke shot him a glance.

"I didn't think they'd track us so quickly," Hawke frowned, stabbing her daggers into their sheaths. Exhaling, she paced a bit. "Maybe it's coincidence. They had patrols on the coast, it only makes sense they'd have them in the hills."

"It's not a chance worth taking," Fenris said, wiping the blood from his blade. When he moved to roll the templar into the trees, Hawke stopped him.

"Wait. He's about my size – wouldn't you say Varric?"

"Maybe a little lacking when it comes to curves," the dwarf replied.

"Ever the silver tongue," Hawke murmured, and she knelt down, before looking to Anders. "Help me strip him. We'll fare better if one of us is a templar. Besides... I'm far too recognizable."

* * *

><p>"Here we are, I guess," Anders said, sitting in the dark alongside Bethany. She lifted the fabric in her hands towards the firelight, expertly finishing the stitch to mend the gash in her robes. When she didn't reply for some time, he asked, "Bethany?"<p>

"I'm still here, Anders," Bethany replied coldly. She tossed her robe down and smoothed the fabric, then resumed rubbing the neck of the mabari who sat with her. The rest of their companions slept nearby.

"Ah." Anders quietly cleared his throat and draped his arms over his knees, watching where Hawke had laid traps to guard their camp. After staring at the darkness for a time, his head turned to where Hawke slept with her mouth wide open and her arms sprawled above her head. How did they ever share a bed?

"You know, I was wrong," Bethany quietly said, staring into the darkness. "You aren't anything like my father."

"I-"

"He would have never hurt anyone," Bethany continued, cutting him off without looking his way. She idly turned a ring on her finger. "What you did would have made him sick. Never you mind the chantry itself, do you know how many mages died because of what you did?"

"How many mages would have continued to die – would have had their souls cut out – if I hadn't acted, Bethany?" Anders furrowed his brow, looking at his hands. "You knew people made Tranquil. Do you think I could live with myself if they did that to you?"

"Of course, that's the reason," Bethany said in a heated whisper, shaking her head. "Orsino protected me. It would have never happened."

"Did you miss what else he was willing to do?" Anders said, turning towards her. His voice softened. "Things weren't going to get better, not without this. We'd have never learnt what was really happening to Meredith."

"He never would have been pushed if you hadn't decided to force the issue!" Bethany snapped, and she put a hand over her mouth. It was a moment before she added quietly, "Isn't that what you always said? Mages being pushed to the extreme, seeing no other way?"

"We finally had another way, and he decided to act – it was Orsino's choice to make that demonic pact, Bethany," Anders insisted. His grace stirred between them, ears flattening as he looked at the two people. "He could have found freedom with us."

"Freedom," Bethany said flatly, looking up as she blinked the tears from her eyes. "Is that what this is? What freedom do we have to do what we wish – or be with whom we want? We have no choice but to run, and pray to the Maker – who we've damned ourselves in the eyes of – pray that we don't get caught."

"We won't always be running," Anders said, putting his head down in his hands. His grace whimpered as Bethany choked on a breath.

"I suppose the Chantry will just give up eventually, is that what you think? They were ready to march on Kirkwall, the Divine will not rest till you are brought to justice," Bethany said, hands trembling before she covered her eyes, "and my sister will be killed alongside you. Do you want to take everything from me?"

"Sunshine?" Varric stirred from his sleep, his voice thick. "What's happening?"

"I want justice," Anders said, his voice hoarse. "You think that I don't? That it doesn't burn in me? That is all I feel."

"Yet here you sit!" Bethany cried out, jerking up to her feet. "And she still loves you just like before. You still have each other, what have you had to sacrifice?"

Hawke stirred where she lay, a hand on her dagger. "Time for the sacrifice? What did I miss?"

Bethany made a frustrated sound and turned away from them as she covered her face, having woken the whole camp. She hardened voice, a practise needed in the walls of the Gallows, and said flatly, "Nothing, sister. I need some space."

As she walked away, Hawke rubbed her eyes and murmured, "I hadn't realized there was a deficiency."

Varric grabbed his shirt as he stood up and sighed, throwing it on to follow Bethany out of the firelight. "Not wise to wander off, Sunshine…"

From where he sat across the fire, Fenris turned his eyes on Anders, lips in a grim line. He shook his head and rolled over with his back to the fire, his brands aglow.

"Hey," Hawke said sleepily, half undressed as she walked up and took Anders' hands. "You still in there?"

Anders closed his eyes and sighed as Hawke pulled him close. "How do you make it so easy?"

"Hmm? You're huggable, it's not my fault," Hawke murmured.

"She's right," Anders quietly said. "I know I'd do it again, I don't question that. But she's right."

Hawke exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand up his back before she whispered, "Everyone is right in their own way – in their own mind. We believe in and fight for the things we do because they are right. But we can't always be right. And that's how it will always be."

Anders furrowed his brow and leant into Hawke's embrace, drawing a deep breath through his nose. "When'd you get so philosophical?"

"I'm sleepy," Hawke murmured. "When I wake up more, I'll go back to being an idiot."

Chuckling a bit, Anders slipped his arms around her and squeezed tight, sighing.

"You say, I want Justice, but only because he's an integral part of you," Hawke whispered by his ear. "You've said before he was always so black and white – that the world had no gradients. I've always lived in the greys, so I… I can't judge you. I love you too much for that."

"I don't deserve you, Marian," Anders replied.

"Well unfortunately I'm rather averse to the idea of living without you," Hawke spoke as she inhaled, and leaned back to look up at his tired face. "I'd rather not end up in that abyss just yet. Go rest. I'll take watch."


	3. CH 3: On the House

"You're kidding, right?" Varric said, crossing his arms.

"We'll clear it, and it will house us while we decide where to go next," Hawke said with a sigh. "They can't be worse for us than the templars in Kirkwall."

"Don't be so sure," Varric muttered in reply.

"The Veil is thin," Anders said, watching Hawke as she shifted with fatigue. "There's only so much we'll be able to do."

"I wonder what's in there," Merrill said quietly.

"A pile of things you'll just love, I'm certain," Anders said and rolled his eyes. The feathers on his shoulders ruffled as he shook his head. "We could always keep walking – head to Tevinter perhaps." Varric laughed once.

"Over my dead body," Fenris said, drawing his sword and approaching the house. Merrill followed him.

"We could probably sell it for a lot," Anders replied, glancing between Varric and Hawke. "That's all I'm saying."

They followed Fenris down through the glade and abandoned fields towards the dilapidated manor. The sound of birds faded away behind them, and the sunlight that streamed down lost its warmth the closer they got, obscured by the low mist along the ground.

"Seems ripe for one of your stories," Hawke murmured to Varric as she gripped her dagger, scanning the wide porch along the front of the house. "Hold up. You too mister, stay here on watch." Her mabari whimpered, and Anders frowned as she sprinted ahead of them and took the steps with light feet, pausing by the door.

Hawke turned and signalled to them, her breath visible in the air, as she spoke. "Not so bad. Might make a good icebox, mm?"

"It's deeper," Bethany replied, and Anders nodded.

Leaning in against the doorframe, Hawke nodded as she cautiously inspected it with a knowing touch and said, "Houses usually are."

"There were no traps," Fenris said with a sigh, pushing the door open. "Merely spectres."

"By all means then," Varric muttered, glancing at Hawke before the rest followed. The wide entry hall was caked in cobwebs and dust. One of the far windows was broken, a young sapling entreating into the space.

Hawke strolled towards the broken dining table, toeing a corpse on the ground. "I suddenly understand your mansion in Hightown, Fenr..." Her step slowed, and she drew a hand to her chest as her breath tightened, limbs seizing. There was a hush of light around them and Hawke fell to her knees, wisps of magic dizzying her limbs.

"Marian," Bethany cried, as a blister of light crackled through the room and the corpse nearby rose, a herald to the other shades that appeared.

"Try not to set the place on fire," Varric said. He stepped back to dodge an ephemeral strike and cocking Bianca to crack through the corpse's shin.

The energy spun like silk, tugging at Hawke's limbs to drag her towards the back stairs. She shuddered in the bonds, stabbing her dagger into a floorboard to ground herself, and a shriek of protest trembled the eaves. Fenris's greatsword flashed bright, cleaving through the shades that darkened the musty space.

The walls creaked and the light sucked out of the room, leaving only the flicker of magic and lyrium brands as Hawke trembled with the effort of herself still. The invisible grip on her shook the house, and dust flew as fire licked at the cobwebs. The dust in the air flashed as fire licked through to clear it and the cobwebs. A rage demon answered in reply, its molten form barring the way to Hawke.

Suddenly the boards underfoot splintered, and Hawke's blade broke free, the floor fracturing into a chasm beneath the house and pulling her down into it. Her alarmed scream cut short as she disappeared into the maw of jagged wood and darkness.

"No!" Anders cried, finally swiping the corpse dead with flourish of his bladed staff and darting past to the ragged hole. "I can see her!"

"All fine and dandy, Blondie, but maybe we could try not to die on the way?" Varric called, rolling out of the way as the fiery demon screamed. A noxious cloud issued from the ground at Merrill's command, and the demon's skin cracked black and flame, suffering in the flesh.

Anders uttered an incantation and a glyph blossomed at its feet, and finally its howl became the screams of a mortal. The man left in its wake shuddered, skin steaming as he crumpled to the floor.

"A man." Fenris grimaced and strode forward. "Mage! What have you done to this place?"

"M- m- m-" The man struggled, scarce able to lift his head as Fenris clutched him, his lyrium markings glowing.

"Let him go!" Merrill said, and darted forward. "You poor thing."

Bethany hurried to the hole in the floor. "What happened?"

Anders shook his head as he knelt down, looking into the jagged maw in the floor. "Something's got her. I can't affect it... we need to go down."

"And what if it is some work of his?" Fenris said, pacing menacingly as Merrill broke the seal on a potion. "Wasting what little supplies we have on some stranger."

"We're gonna kill ourselves if we just try and jump," Varric said, standing by Anders.

"I could heal you if it's just a break or something."

"Just a break," Varric murmured, smirking. There was an odd glow in the cavern below the house, and Hawke was amongst it, held aloft by the dark tendrils of what could have been a dying tree. "What is that? Do you think she's alive?"

"She's alive," Anders said, and his voice trembled with anger.

The man on the ground started shaking his head and coughing, his eyes clearing as he finished the potion Merrill had given him. "Maker... thank you."

"What has her, mage?" Fenris demanded, raising a glowing fist and leaning over him. "What have you done here?"

"Me?" The man croaked, dark circles around his widening eyes. "I - I am no mage. Please, I've been trapped here - wha... Who are you?"

"I'm Merrill," the elf replied, moving back as the man scrambled to his feet.

"I am Solas." He bit his lips closed.

Anders pushed off the ground, with Bethany and Varric on his heels. "Lovely time for pleasantries, but we've got to get to Hawke. Is there a way down? Does the mansion have a cellar?"

Solas paled, looking through the dark room. There was the stain of the demon on the floor beside him. "I don't know."

"Lot of bloody help you are," Anders said under his breath, and they disappeared into the back room.

"No, they ca-" Solas crumpled to the ground as the pommel of Fenris's sword smashed into his head. The elf turned away from the unconscious man and followed the others through the manor.

"That wasn't very nice," Merrill said.

"Neither is killing him," Fenris replied, tensing as they advanced into the waiting arms of more spectres.

The house shuddered as they fought the ephemeral creatures, the walls warping with unnatural energy. As Varric kicked back a shade and shot it to the ground, a feminine cry rose through the house, and they all faltered. They found a way into the hollowed out space beneath the house, creeping down collapsed floorboards and furniture into the oddly glowing space.

"This is much easier when Hawke's the one hurling herself in headfirst," Varric said, signalling safety as he crept forward.

"She certainly always enjoys it," Bethany sighed.

The walls were crumbling soil, and the roots of trees encroached into the space, blocking their view as they crept towards the light in the passage ahead. There was another muffled yelp, and Anders pushed past them to duck and hurry towards where Hawke was held, staff at the ready. The air charged with static and a shimmering barrier blocked them in.

"A mage," came Hawke's convoluted voice, and it fractured deeper. "What fortune."

"I am no mere mage," Anders said, hairlines of blue light crackling his form as Justice spoke. "Release the woman you hold and surrender your place in this world, demon."

Hawke tensed in the aura-bound clutch of black tendrils, and the voice grew deeper as she struggled. "Curiouser. She will break yet." The house above them shuddered and sighed, seeming to breathe with a life all its own. More bits of floorboard tumbled into the open space.

"You will not," Anders replied, his voice multi-octave as blue fire licked up his hands. As he raised his staff, a glyph not his own burst to life beneath him, vanquishing the vengeful fire and leaving him immobilized, eyes wide in surprise.

"I am too a mage," Merrill said stepping forward past him to look over Hawke, a dagger in her hand. "But you know that."

"Indeed." A low chuckle came, and a flutter of energy rebuffed Fenris as he raised his sword. "Do you not wish this? For all the wrongs she has done to you?"

"Creators no, spirit," Merrill said, her bright eyes flicking to Hawke. "Release her - release this place, and help me."

"No, Merrill," Bethany said, flexing her fingers on her staff as the elf looked at her. "You don't need to do this. We can find another way."

Merrill's eyes glazed in a moment of distraction, another voice whispering unseen in her ear. She shook her head, wrinkling her nose and slicing open her hand. The energy pulsed through the room as the blood rose around her, and Hawke hissed as she was released. She slumped to the ground, and Bethany hurried to her sister.

"Marian," Bethany whispered, trembling as she lay there. A nimbus had enveloped Merrill, protectively shielding the elf as she reached for one of the dark tendrils.

"No time for that, Broody," Varric muttered as Fenris glared at Merrill. He pointed to Hawke. "We need to get her out of here."

Shaking his head, Fenris gingerly picked up Hawke as Anders broke out of the glyph.

"Let me see her," Anders said, trembling as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Merrill glanced at them with blood red eyes as Fenris backed away with Hawke in his arms. They left her below and made it onto the porch of the manor. The fog had lifted, and the sun was shining on the greyed wood as they laid her down.

"I want a drink," Hawke murmured, closing her eyes. Dark wells circled her eyes, and there was plasma matting her hair. She sighed out as Anders roused the Fade to his will, putting a healing hand on her ribs. "That is always so lovely."

Bethany fell on her sister, pulling her into a tight embrace, "Thank the Maker. I can't lose you."

"You won't," Hawke whispered, glancing to Anders before closing her eyes and patting Bethany on the back. Their mabari jogged closer, whimpering. "You won't, dear sister, just don't squeeze so hard."


	4. CH 4: Inner Demons

"Here," Anders said quietly, sitting in the shade of a lean-to outside the manor.

"Aye," Hawke nodded, closing her eyes as he prodded over her ribs and back. Her breath shuddered a bit. "Mostly better, thanks to you."

"We'll rest a few days if we can," Anders replied, tracing his fingers along the deep scarring. "It's over the old wound. It will heal slowly."

"Yes, isn't that always the way of things," Hawke chuckled, closing her eyes and hanging her head. She inhaled with considerable difficulty. "Mangled but still whole, somehow. And you love me anyway."

"I will always love you," he said, feeling the knotted skin where the arishok had run her through. She breathed deeper as the healing energy of his touch grew, fitting her back together within. "What did the demon do?"

Flickers of Anders' distorted features flashed in Hawke's thoughts, with Bethany dead at her feet. But a word, it would have only taken a word, the templars had hissed. They had lost, and she was on her knees. What worth was there for any of them? If only she would succumb, she could have the life and freedom she ached for.

"It was like a terrible dream, really," Hawke mumbled, dropping her eyes. "More than the reality we're living, if you can believe that. A game with you somehow, but he was being far too nice to himself. I knew it couldn't be you."

"Lucky that," Anders murmured. "You still feel like you."

"Thank you for the stamp of approval." Hawke leaned back into him, cringing as she moved. "Maker's balls. You can't fix me more than that?"

"Sweetheart, you were broken long before I met you," Anders chuckled.

Hawke took his hand, pulling it around her waist with a sigh. "So sweet." She looked towards the manor, the sun bright and hot through the thin cloth that granted them meagre privacy. "What did Merrill do?"

Fingers tightening on her skin, Anders tempered the flush of anger within as he said, "A bargain with the demon trapped beneath the manor. She's so keen upon it, I'm not sure we could stop her if we tried."

"People need to make their own choices," Hawke sighed, closing her eyes as she lifted her arms.

Anders placed a poultice along a stitched gash on her waist, wrapping a bandage to secure it. He kissed her shoulder when he was done. "No matter how terrible they are."

"Thank you, good doctor." Hawke tilted her head towards him, receiving another kiss.

"I don't think we should stay here," Anders said, looking at his hands as he rubbed her shoulders, fingers caressing her neck.

"I wish I could help her," Hawke said, watching where Bethany sat with their mabari. "I thought what happened to Keeper Marethari would be enough."

"Sometimes no matter of suffering is enough," Anders said quietly, looking towards the house.

* * *

><p>Hawke sat and peeled the roots with her knife as Solas and Fenris spoke.<p>

"I began to think I would never be free of it," Solas said quietly, sitting on the far side of the fire and looking at the mansion. "I can barely even recall what brought me here."

"A mage, no doubt," Fenris replied, jerking his hands to skin the rabbit. "What else could have trapped you in such a place?"

A shadow passed over Solas' eyes and he said, "I was looking for someone. But that scarcely matters now. It was my own fault, what happened."

"I have trouble imagining that," Fenris murmured.

Solas looked at the house, turning the coals with a stick, "What use is it trying to blame others? We all make so many choices in the end, finding a true mirror, that is the fear." He skewered the rabbit, and they set it over the coals. "Anger drove me to become what I was. This place – what is in the earth here – it merely gave it form. The Fade, spirits, demons… it's always easier to blame something outside of us."

Hawke bent a piece of tin and laid it on the coals before putting the cut roots within it to cook, protected from the ash. She got up when she saw Bethany emerge from the manor into the evening shadows.

"The Veil is intact, at least," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. Hawke wrapped an arm around her. "Merrill won't listen to anything. I don't even know her anymore."

"A lot has happened through the years," Hawke replied, walking arm and arm with her to where Varric wrote in his book. The dwarf closed it as they approached, and took the time to head towards the manor. Her mabari looked up at them.

"A lot always does," Bethany replied, veiling her eyes with her hand a moment. "Sometimes it's hard to belie-" Her words cut away as Anders raised his voice nearby. Hawke pulled away from her sister to hurry to his side.

"What, you're just going to walk in there and kill her?" Anders asked.

"You are in no place to judge my actions," Fenris replied with a sneer. "And what is so different about it? How many of her kind have you slain? How many has Hawke slain? All those who stood in your way."

"Oh, I don't know," Hawke interjected. "We've killed our share that stood in your way too, mm?"

Fenris huffed and asked, "Where is Varric?"

"Talking to Merrill," Bethany replied, looking towards the manor. "Trying to talk her out of staying."

"If anyone can, he can," Hawke replied.

"What makes her such a special blood mage? It will all end the same." Fenris bristled and shook his head, walking away from the camp.

When he was gone, the stranger Solus spoke from by the fire, "What good does anger do?"

"I am sorry, but you won't be able to stay with us," Hawke said flatly, crossing her arms and watching the elf stalk away.

"Of course," the man replied, face sagging. "I imagine I should return to Kirkwall."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Anders murmured.

Inside the house, Varric lingered by the mangled floorboards that lead back up to normality, his hair on end from the energy that hung in the air. The furrow on his brow deepened. "Come on, Daisy. How's it going to help you or the Dalish to stay down here?"

"You might not care about your people or culture, Varric, but being Dalish is all I have left." Merrill glanced over her shoulder to him, an odd light in her eyes.

Varric hardened his jaw, swallowing the insult as he raised his hands. "There was a reason you came with us. And it wasn't this. Hawke… we can't stay here with you."

"Of course you can't," Merrill said and looked away, saying something quietly to herself – or perhaps to the entity in the house. "I know how to look after myself. I don't need you."

"I know, Daisy," Varric replied, a lump in his throat. "I just hope you're making the right choice."

"I don't think it's as easy as that," Merrill said, the words drifting away.

* * *

><p>It was late when Varric finally emerged from the dark mansion, and Hawke was on watch with her mabari at her side. The fire was at her back, and she could see him in her periphery. He sat beside her without a word and stared at the night sky.<p>

Finally, Varric said quietly, "So you'll survive?"

"Well, you know Anders," Hawke said under her breath. "Can't keep his healing hands off of me."

Varric chuckled just once, looking down at his hands before staring off into the darkness again. "Things alright between you two?"

"I don't know," Hawke absently said, slouching into her mabari more and rifling a hand through her hair. "I mean, you know how much I enjoy explosions."

"I do," Varric smirked and glanced at her.

"I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel," Hawke murmured. "All these months, things have been… terrible. Not knowing what he was going to do… I know I was trying to convince myself of something."

"I don't think any of us expected it," Varric whispered, giving her thigh a squeeze. "Blow up the Gallows, yeah, but…"

"I feel like it should bother me more," Hawke said, and her expression lightened as she put a hand over his. "Do you think he's hiding anything else?"

"Shit, Hawke," Varric replied, shaking his head. There were shadows in his features. "I'm not sure I know anything anymore. Maybe you're actually half dragon, like that Flemeth woman. Maybe Fenris harbours a deep seeded fetish for mages that he can't bear to confront." When Hawke chuckled, his voice dropped quieter again as he said, "You know I try not to think about the real reason for things."

Hawke smirked. "Much easier to make something more fanciful up."

"Exactly," Varric said, shuffling closer to lean against his grace beside Hawke. The mabari huffed a bit, but couldn't be bothered to lift his head.

"Sorry I dragged you into this, by the way," Hawke said, exhaling.

"Eh, you could go back to blaming me stopping the cutpurse that day in Hightown." Varric smirked. "Where does it begin? I miss the Hanged Man, I'll give you that, but…" He shrugged, and looked away

"What, no words to describe it?" Hawke smirked, glancing at him.

"Some things don't need words, beautiful," Varric said wistfully. "You'll just have to cover my tab when we finally find a tavern again."

"I'm not sure all the coin we've got would cover that," Hawke murmured, and they both chuckled.

They stared into the darkness, and Hawke's eyes drifted away from the stars as she looked at the lines in her hands, massaging over the tired muscles and grime. She finally flexed her fingers. They looked old. There were so many creases, so much time. When did she grow up like that? Those weren't the hands of an unseasoned young rogue anymore.

"Maker, tell me you packed some form of liquor. Something strong enough to make me blind, perhaps?"

"Just a little," Varric chuckled, slipping a silver flask from his coat. He took a deep drink before passing it to Hawke. He watched as she swallowed a mouthful, exhaling a cooling breath.

"That will do," she sighed.

"It'll have to," Varic replied, resting it between their legs. "I think I drank most of it in there with Daisy."

Hawke worked her tongue in her mouth, tempering her voice as she quietly asked, "Are you going to stay with her?"

Varric looked at her in mild surprise, hands in his lap. "I'm surprised, milady."

"I know you've taken care of her all these years," Hawke said, fatigue edging in her voice. "A surrogate father or something like that."

"Don't be ridiculous," Varric huffed a little, shaking his head. "Wait, what am I saying. I don't think you have that capacity."

"Hah!" Hawke's expression lost its serious edge and she gave him a push. "I doubt I could make it without you."

"I know," Varric sighed, slouching down and putting his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, lying against the mabari. "Someone needs to be here to prop you up."

"Your flask wasn't that strong, Varric," Hawke peered at him.

The dwarf kept his eyes closed, "Mhm."

"Hmph."

It was a moment before Varric asked, "So we keep moving tomorrow?"

"Yes," Hawke replied with concealed exhaustion, "It's best we do."


	5. CH 5: Broken Glass

A/N: Sorry! Am out of town so I know I've lost track of time. Life is very hectic right now, but will do my best to keep posting :

* * *

><p>Fenris whistled again to rouse them from their sleep. His grace was on his feet beside Bethany, teeth bared as the lantern flickered in the pre-dawn light. Anders doused the fire as Hawke hushed the mabari and crouched in the darkness with Fenris and Varric, blades at the ready.<p>

"Up the road," Fenris whispered.

"Stay," Hawke whispered to the mabari, and he harrumphed. She kept low to the ground and ran towards the road. Her steps were silent as she advanced on the small band of men where they hesitated.

"Very close," an older templar said, the telltale sword of mercy visible upon his breastplate. He held aloft a vial emanating a bloody glow. "Be ready."

Hawke winged back to her dog's side as though in flight for her life. She crouched in the shadows and whispered, "Templars. They have a phylactery."

"Bethany." Fenris frowned.

"What's this? You sound like you might actually want to help a mage, Broody," Varric smirked.

"I've helped many mages whether I wished to or not," he clipped.

"Lovely time to chat, but let's hit with a pre-emptive strike – shall we?" Hawke inhaled as she moved, fingering one of the last flasks on her hip. Clicking the bolts into place, Varric ran his hand along Bianca and nodded as they crept towards the road.

"Couldn't wait till dawn," a young voice muttered as the men trudged along the road.

"You chose this path," another replied, the lantern swaying in his grasp. "We will not rest until they're brought in for what they've done."

"Yes, ser," the boy sighed, but the sound cut away as a bolt knocked him in the chest, piercing his armour. Hawke's flask cracked on the ground and fire lit the night, blinding them to the surrounding darkness. As they reached for their blades the darkness there was a flash and Fenris was amongst them, his blade a swathe through the templars.

The lantern crashed to the ground, the oil flickering brightly as it was consumed. The dying light illuminated the whip of limbs and blades. The templars' cries were met with thick thuds and Hawke slashed through them with little mercy, staggering as the templar with the vial smote them.

Out of the templars' reach, Varric smacked another set of bolts into Bianca and shot the lead templar as he advanced on Hawke. The man took it in stride, his off hand snapping back as the bolt spiked his arm, and the Champion staggered to deflect the sword he brought upon her. Fenris made quick work of the others as her dagger found its way between the plates of the templar's armour.

He coughed blood upon her as Hawke kicked him to the ground, falling onto his chest knees first. She stabbed his sword arm to the ground, and the templar cried out. Shifting her weight, she ground her heel into the wrist holding the phylactery.

"You threaten me and mine, and this is what befalls you," Hawke snarled, standing over the wounded templar. She lightly jabbed her dagger, nicking the stubble down his neck.

"Maker damn you, Champion," the templar struggled to say.

"Damn your hypocrisy. That's all you are. Hypocrites." Hawke spat in his face, crushing her heel into his wrist again. He finally lost grip on the brightly glowing vial, and it rolled into the mud. "And the Maker isn't watching, your Chantry is abundantly clear on that point." When he made to speak again, she flicked her wrist and sank the blade up into his skull.

Fenris turned to her, shouldering his blade. "More blood on our hands."

Hawke rose and crushed the phylactery, the blood spilling on the ground with a mist of light. She kicked the dirt, spreading the blood and broken glass. "And underfoot. Better theirs than ours."

"I suppose," the elf replied quietly.

"Think they're the only ones?" Varric asked.

"It would be a vain wish," Hawke sighed, and began to root through the bodies. "Take all you can."

"Sister!" Bethany said as she appeared with Anders and the mabari on her heels.

"You know to stay out of sight," Hawke said as she tugged a small journal from the knight's satchel. "I'm disappointed, your grace." The mabari huffed to himself and hung his head, putting a paw over his eyes.

"How did they track us?" Bethany frowned.

"A phylactery," Hawke simply said, toeing the ground again. "But it is no more."

"We need to move, either way," Anders said, catching the book as Hawke tossed it to him.

"Indeed, love," Hawke said, wiping her blades in the grass. She smiled tiredly and patted his shoulder. "Lead on with your unholy light."

They followed the slow bob of the spell wisp with Fenris and his grace in the lead. Hawke fell back beside Anders as he flipped through the small journal, watching his fingers crease over the pages.

"Anything of interest?" she asked quietly.

"Notes, mainly," he murmured, wrinkling his nose. "Descriptions of us all. A list of names – Bethany, your name is here. Do you recognize any of these?"

Taking the journal, Bethany tilted the page towards the light, straining in the dark. Furrowing her brow, she said, "It's the senior enchanters from the Gallows."

"Lovely," Hawke exhaled, slipping her hand against Bethany's back to keep her moving as they marched on in the dark.

* * *

><p><em>The face morphed as Meredith bade Anders to kneel, and suddenly the righteous eyes of the Prince of Starkhaven were there, burning down upon the man she loved. Hawke was but a spectre, her grasp intangible as she tried to decipher the words upon his lips. There was an army at his behest- no, it was a group of assassins, there were bodies on the ground and grass, yet somehow they were in the familiar streets of Kirkwall. <em>

_ Anders' face was ashen, eyes downcast and unmoving. Hawke shuddered, suddenly seeing her own face at her feet. Her eyes were empty, and she sunk to her knees, trying to feel herself back into the body. It was then she saw the streaks of tears in the eyes of her partner._

_ "No," she whispered. It was the only word that could escape before her tongue swelled in her mouth, lips sealed. She had no lips as Sebastian spoke again. The sky behind them glowed fuchsia, fraught with blighted clouds. The air was gelatine when she reached for Anders._

_ But she could not affect the blade in the rogue brother's hand, and Hawke's skin chilled as Sebastian flicked his wrist, beckoning the slow seep of Ander's blood in a defined line that bore open his neck. It arrested her heart, the pain blossoming and paralyzing her._

"Marian," Anders whispered, hand on her brow as he leant over her. When she shuddered in a breath and trembled on the ground beside him, he said more forcefully, "Hawke."

The Champion opened her eyes, shuddering out of her drowsy haze and squinting in the dying firelight. Hawke gradually focused on him, tightening her hands on his arms.

"Oh," Hawke softly huffed, exhaling sharply to form a relieved smile. "It's you."

Anders nodded, sitting up more as the blanket they shared fell to his waist. "Who were you expecting?"

"Hoping for you," Hawke whispered, laying her head back on the ground and squeezing his thigh.

Glancing over their companions, Anders lifted a hand to the mabari, and the hound turned back to watch, looking off into the dark. He leaned on an elbow beside Hawke, "Bad dreams?"

"Something like that," Hawke murmured. "I lost something that meant a great deal to me."

"Hasn't that already happened?" Andes chuckled self-depreciatingly.

"No," Hawke whispered, running her hand up his shoulder to his cheek. He leant in at the welcome to kiss her, and soon her fingers were tangled in his hair.

Drawing a deep breath through his nose, Anders tilted his head and deepened the kiss before whispering against her lips. "You should rest."

Hawke pulled him closer, forcing him to plant a hand beside her head as she kissed into his neck. She toyed down his abdomen before nestling her thigh between his legs, a subtle motion grinding it up into his loins. "I will soon."

"Marian," Anders whispered, closing his eyes. He tugged in her embrace, only earning a soft kiss along his collarbone, and blowing out a silent breath as she teased him, knowingly urging him hard. "Is this wise?"

"What about all your knowledge of quiet trysts?" Hawke breathed against his neck, closing her eyes to suck up his warmth as he leant into her all the more. They were farther from the fire than the rest, and the air smelled of the coming autumn. "Help me forget the world. I want only you for a moment."

Anders closed his eyes and gradually drew his hand up over her breast, the loose fabric of her shirt bunching with ease. She kissed him again and he responded in kind, pressing her to the ground and hitching her breath. When she softly gasped, he gave her breast a teasing squeeze and pulled back, whispering, "Quiet."

Hawke drew a slower breath, nodding as their eyes met and his hands slipped under her shirt. He toyed with her nipples, flecking the hoop that pierced one as he looked down on her in the low light the fire cast. Across the flames Varric stirred, only to roll and settle back into even sleep. She trembled as his other hand slipped home, gliding and parting the damp lips of her sex.

Breathless, Anders kissed her to silence her mouth, easily finding the quiet rhythm of his movements, soaking up each little sound Hawke made as she struggled to hush herself. He shook his head and pulled his fingers free, clamping it over her mouth and prompting her eyes open.

"Quieter than that," he whispered, his heated breath finding her neck as he untied his britches. It sent a thrill as she arched on the ground, nudging his arousal against her. She pressed into his hand.

It had been so long since the act had not been laden with guilt of his impending choice. Never mind their growing distance, Anders had scarcely allowed time for them to be together, to touch her, to feel her around him, enveloping and struggling with her heady desire. Desire for him - unable to contain how much she wanted him - even now, when he had done so much.

Anders moved his hand to cover Hawke's mouth with his, sliding in painfully slow and eliciting a soft huff of breath as she tempered the tremble in her. The blankets quietly shifted and her hand crept up his back, gripping tight as he moved into her neck, evening out his breaths even as he began to rock. Each drawn out thrust was met with the rock of her body to meet him, slow seconds passing with each as they rolled together like hot bothered teens.

The fire slumped and his grace grumbled in his own way, passing to the other side of the campfire as Anders bit into Hawke's neck with the same slowness. Her breath trembled, a whispered breeze against his temple as she arched into him again, thigh tightening around his waist to pull him deeper into her. He wouldn't let himself hurry, savouring the tensile writhe of her body as he pulsed in her, closing his eyes and silencing himself to just feel. To know that he was alive and free.

"Anders," Hawke breathed, head falling back to the bedroll as she gyrated up into his slow-paced thrusts. Her lips fell wide and she forced out a slow, even breath even as her body shuddered - but the sound clipped, and she was shaking her head as she plied and gripped his skin.

His hand was over her mouth again, lips puckering in his palm, and Anders trembled, feeling Hawke wriggle and breathe deeper as he kept pace. He whispered against her skin, and the subtle crackle of energy at his fingertips zinged along her thigh, drawing the hard shudder from her as she bucked into him and closed her eyes. Her quiet breaths warbled as she undulated with the rush and relief, and she pulled his hand away to kiss him hard.

Fingers in his hair, Hawke held Anders forehead-to-forehead with her as she arched her hips to meet his slow thrusts, grinding them deep together. Her heart thudded in her chest as she murmured in a breath, "I still love you."

"I love you more than anything," he replied, only to find silence on her lips once more as emotion crushed in his chest.


	6. CH 6: Siblings

"Please, don't hurt us!" the adolescent mage cried, falling to his knees and putting his hands on the ground. "We didn't mean to run!"

"They're mages like us, nug for brains. Didn't you see those spells?" the other boy, an elf, cautiously replied, regarding Hawke and her companions.

"Bu – but she's a templar!"

"Maybe," the elf lifted his chin, "But just one. That's why you saved us, isn't it?"

"In part. And I'm not a templar," Hawke said as she sheathed her daggers, standing over the dead cougar.

They'd left the mansion a week previous, escaping its cold shadow. They had followed a plateau through the highlands, and the Vimmark Mountains loomed in the distance.

"What are you doing out here?"

"What's it to you?" The boy crossed his arms, tucking his dark hair behind an elven ear.

"We escaped from the Gallows," the adolescent mage blurted. "Please don't take us back to the templars!"

The elven boy sighed and closed his eyes.

"I don't remember you," Bethany tilted her head, looking each of them over.

"We were only there a couple months," the elf said, reaching down to pull his comrade up. "I don't think we were allowed out of our quarters once."

Anders curled his hand into a fist as he looked on them and said, "You won't go back. I promise."

"I don't need you to promise that," the elf said, his posture prickly.

"Tithan, I don't know where we are, you said they were mages!" the adolescent replied.

"We're not going to hurt you, we're on the run as well," Anders interjected, and he took off his pack. "Are you hungry? We've food."

"One cannot blame him for being cautious," Fenris said as he approached. He motioned further up the path. "The other feline fled, I thought it wise not to pursue."

Seeing the tattooed warrior, the Tithan relaxed his posture a bit and said, "He's Sulen. So you escaped too?"

"In a manner of speaking." Hawke smirked and looked them over. Her expression disappeared as she said, "You're hurt."

"Come here," Anders said, and rolled his eyes when the boy just stared at him. He took a few steps towards him. "I am a healer, I'm not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Take it from me, kid," Varric said. "So long as you're not a Chantry-ordained brother, Blondie will keep you safe." When Hawke shot him a glance, he lifted his hands. "What?"

"You don't know any healing?" Anders asked, looking between them as he closed his eyes and pulled at the Fade.

"I'm good at small things," Sulen said, looking amidst them. "Cuts. Bruises. I don't trust enough to go deeper yet."

The light coalesced around Anders hands, and the man frowned. Tithan moved and Anders' concentration broke, prompting him to say, "Keep still… there's more than I thought."

"I don't like it," Tithan replied, crossing his arms.

"Do you know where you're going?" Bethany interjected. She smiled thinly as he looked at her. "Maybe we can help."

Sulen glanced from the elf to Bethany before saying, "We want to find our parents. They have land in the hills… I just – well it's been hard. We tried to stay away from Kirkwall, so I don't know the way."

Tithan kept his mouth closed until Anders finished, and then said, "Your parents. My mother."

"You're siblings?" Hawke said, before grinning. "And both mages. That must have made it easier."

"Sister," Bethany narrowed her tired eyes.

"Yes, yes," Hawke said with a sigh, her grin reflected by Tithan's smirk. "I was not so fortunate."

The elven boy raised his chin as he said, "That's too bad."

Anders stood back with a sigh, the light fading as he said, "How's that feel? Your ribs should be better too."

"Whatever," Tithan said, arms still crossed. He looked at Fenris.

The branded elf watched him in return, before glancing aside and asking, "Would you know the location on a map?"

"Yeah," Tithan replied, his posture relaxing more as Fenris took the map from Hawke and knelt on the ground with the boy.

* * *

><p>"Is that lyrium?" Tithan finally asked their third day together in the hills.<p>

"Yes," Fenris replied, walking just a few steps behind Hawke and Anders. Her mabari loped amidst them, distracting the two boys now and then.

"How did you get them?"

"A magister in Tevinter branded them into my flesh," Fenris said.

"Oh," Tithan replied, looking ahead. He more quietly asked, "You were a slave?"

"I was," Fenris said with a brief nod, and he didn't meet the boy's gaze. "But not anymore."

"That's good." The young man nodded as well.

"I like to think so." Fenris smirked and they continued on in Hawke's footsteps. The day progressed towards evening, and they emerged into a region of highland prairie. Across the plateau on the northern horizon the Vimmarks began in earnest.

"This looks familiar," Sulen said, walking beside Tithan and Bethany.

"Good," Hawke replied, removing her heavy pack as she led them toward a copse of trees. "But we need to rest for now. Not safe to be wandering at night."

"We'll take the watch," Tithan said as Bethany started a fire.

Hawke smirked, taking off the satchel strung across her chest. "Kind of you to offer, but I think Anders and I will stay up."

"Fine by me," Varric replied, patting the kid on the back as he hunkered down with his book. "Let the Champion take this one, kiddo."

When everyone had settled and the fire had burnt low, Hawke wandered to where Anders sat looking over the plains just outside the trees. He was running a hand through the thickening stubble on his cheeks.

"Want me to shave that for you?" Hawke asked as she leant onto his shoulders, running a hand through her hair before kissing the top of his ear.

"Not in the dark," Anders murmured, closing his eyes as he looked down.

"But I can see better than you," Hawke replied sweetly, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. When he exhaled deeply, she shuffled to sit between his legs, back against the rock he sat on.

"Everything feels so aimless," Anders finally said, running his fingers into her dark hair.

Hawke closed her eyes, leaning against his thigh. "We're helping young mages. Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is," Anders replied, looking off into the darkness. "It's just the start though. What's after this?"

"I don't know," Hawke smirked, prodding him. "Why look at me for the answers? Don't trust yourself to make them?"

"Maybe," Anders replied, before adding, "Maybe I trust you more."

"You're getting better at saying the right things, you know," Hawke said, sighing pleasantly as he combed her hair.

"Who'd have thought?" Anders said quietly. He brewed for a few minutes before asking, "Why, Marian? Why are you just all right with everything? I... I cannot fathom some days how you manage to shrug it all off."

"Do you want me to be angry?" Hawke murmured, head buoying with the tug of his fingers in her short tresses. "My hands are just as blood red."

"But always for the right reasons..."

"I don't know about that," Hawke scoffed a little. "Yours weren't? Is it so hard to believe that I rationalized it – yes, you lied. You hid things from me for a long time." She exhaled and turned on the ground, wrapping one of her arms around his leg. He looked down at her as she spoke. "But when I stop and think of you not being in my life – if I think about you lying dead at my feet, I die inside. It snuffs out my soul. We've been together for a few years now, is it so hard to believe I can easily forgive you? I love you."

Anders expression crumpled briefly before he touched over Hawke's cheek and sighed. She slipped a hand around his neck to bring their foreheads together, before she rose and embraced him.

"I suppose not," he whispered.

"You have your own demons," Hawke said into his neck, nose against the curve of his shoulder as she breathed deep. "I can't expect you to forgive yourself so easily. You've always been harder on yourself than on me. Maker knows you don't need me beating you up too."

"I have to be the luckiest man alive," Anders whispered, closing his eyes when Hawke kissed his cheek and temple, scraping the stubble.

"I don't know about that," Hawke chuckled, looking over his features. "With how bad you are at Wicked Grace and all?"

* * *

><p>"That's it," Sulen said, pulling away from them to run between the planted rows towards the farmstead. Tithan lingered by Hawke and Fenris' side, walking at a casual pace as his brother made it up the porch and burst in the front door.<p>

"They won't be inside," the young elf murmured.

"Why not?" Fenris asked.

"They'll be in the fields." The mage elf shook his head and jogged towards his brother.

"The joys of country living," Hawke said, taking Fenris' arm and giving it a squeeze. "Winter is the only time for rest. And even then…"

"This way!" Sulen called, jogging past the trees that protected the northern walls of the house. More trees lined the vegetable patch that he led them to, and when he called out again, and two elven women stood up amidst the potatoes and beans.

"Sulen," the older woman said, the basket dropping from her arms as she ran across the patch to pull him into a tight hug. "Where is – thank the Maker!" She offered another arm and Tithan stepped into her embrace.

"Well, what a sight," the other elven woman said as she approached, the two baskets she carried laden with vegetables. "Brought to us by none other than the Champion herself."

Hawke inclined her head, a smirk on her lips. "I hope you might be inclined to accept this peace offering I bring and not surrender us to the authorities."

"Hmm," the basket-carrying woman replied, cautiously eyeing the motley crew.

"Hardly," their mother replied, tucking the boys behind her as she reached for Hawke's hand. "Melinda. And this is my sister, Dayla."

"Hawke," she grinned, and motioned amongst them, "And my merry men. Well, and my sister Bethany."

"However did you escape from the Circle? I heard at the market what happened," Melinda asked, shouldering each of her boys. "I feared the worst."

"Out of the sun, perhaps?" Dayla said with a thin smile. "No doubt they have been on the road."

"Of course, of course," Melinda said, pulling Sulen close to kiss his hair. "I have some tea steeping on the porch."


	7. CH 7: Harvest

Hawke sat with her back to the farmhouse that was across the field, stripped down to just her smalls. A few bushes afforded her a modicum of privacy, but her casual demeanour belied how little it concerned her. The water of the small brook at her feet was clouded from dust and grime as she carefully wiped down her armour and washed her clothing. She used the last bit of dry cloth to get in the creases. It seemed so long since she'd felt clean.

Melinda had agreed without hesitation to let them stay and help with the harvest, despite her sister's reservation. Labouring from sunrise to set was gruelling work – something she had grown unaccustomed to. It used to be her lot in life, living in Ferelden with her family. Her hands were rough for a different reason now.

Hawke paused, closed her eyes and looked up into the late afternoon sun, letting it warm her skin. Clearing his throat, Anders crept up behind her. The sound didn't prompt her to move.

"Here, give me your clothing," Hawke said, holding out a hand. "I can still do my proper womanly duty."

"Yes, because being naked in a stream bed is so very proper," Anders replied, hesitating before taking off his coat and trousers beneath. He moved stiffly. "How are you feeling?"

"Grown up," Hawke murmured, rubbing the cloth in the water before checking it and sighing. It went back into the burble of cool water. "Not something I particularly like."

"Indeed, when did that happen?" Anders asked, shivering a bit and keeping his feet from the water. He looked up at the puffy clouds in the sky.

"Some time ago, I'm starting to believe," Hawke said. She pulled her shirt from the water and shook it out, then threw it over the bush beside her. "I wish I'd been given a choice in the matter."

"I'm sorry," Anders quietly said, and Hawke leaned against him.

"You always are," she said and sighed. "But it has so little to do with you. Wrinkles in the wrong places, and I just feel so tired. Though maybe I need a stiff drink. Dayla's the one hiding it, I think."

"I won't deny, I think this is the longest I've seen you go without one." He grinned, and she pushed him.

"How dare you, good serah, I'll have you know I'm a noble. A homeless, fugitive noble, but better than you nonetheless!" Hawke scoffed and shook her head.

"A thousand pardons, my love," Anders replied, slipping his arm around her waist as she leant into him. He pressed his face into her damp hair and fell quiet.

Hawke ran her hand down his pale thigh before turning to kiss him. When he pulled back, she slipped a hand around his neck and kept him close, lips parting to tease their tongues together.

Anders slowly sighed and put his forehead against hers. They sat quietly like that for a while before he said, "I… I don't know how long I can stay here."

"What? We've barely been here a month. Is obscurity and a regular meal starting to make you antsy?"

"Hardly," Anders chuckled, shifting his weight and stretching out a foot to the brook. He twitched his ankle to splash in the water as Hawke dunked and washed his trousers. "Maybe it's just restlessness. Maybe I don't want to jeopardize the hospitality we've been shown. It's autumn, and… it seems odd to be trapped here all winter."

"You're even Ferelden like me," Hawke murmured, scrubbing the cloth together. "Melinda has said the hills are no kind place in the winter."

"So…" Anders exhaled and warmed his hand over her thigh. "Ostwick? If my geography is right?"

Hawke stood to drape the rest of their clothing over the bushes around them, before she returned to his side and wrapped her arms around her knees. "And I suppose we'll become mercenaries or…oh wait, smugglers, I have experience with that one."

"I know a few people at the Circle," Anders replied. "Maker knows what's happened to them… But didn't Varric say the majority of the templar army is reportedly heading for Kirkwall?"

"Yes, there's a terrible enough thought." Hawke pouted slightly, looking over the stream. "Is there another reason you want to go there? Some other plan?"

"In Ostwick? No," Anders said and furrowed his brow. "Didn't make other plans."

"No more sela petrae or shit like that?" Hawke laughed a bit and he lightened up as she kissed the curve of his neck. "Let's think of a reason to go there then."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if I'm going to be a fugitive outlaw on the run with free mages, I'd like to at least live up to the name that comes with it," Hawke murmured with a devilish grin.

Anders shook his head as she kissed him again, when there was a soft yelp nearby. He looked up and his jaw dropped, "Hey! Stop!"

His grace bounded from the bush nearby, and Anders' pants flapped from where the mabari held them in his mouth. The dog muffled a huff of amusement as he darted around them, and Hawke laughed when Anders cleared his throat.

"You give those back!"

The mabari tossed them in the air just beyond the man's reach, long enough to woof a reply before he caught them and darted away behind a tree.

"I like how he took your pants, not mine." Hawke laughed again, leaning onto her elbow as Anders yelled after the mabari. "A dog after my own heart."

"Very funny," Anders growled, trying not to grin.

* * *

><p>Bethany sighed and slowly smiled, taking another drink of the juice as she sat on the porch with Hawke.<p>

"That good, mm?" Hawke said, reaching for her own glass. Fresh-pressed apples. She sighed contently though the mouthful, smacking her lips before saying, "You know, I think that's one of the first times I've seen you smile."

The light-hearted expression softened as Bethany looked in her lap and replied, "It's getting easier. Maybe being in such foreign places helps."

"Foreign? It's a farm, sister," Hawke said and peered at her.

"No walls, no templars, no locks on the doors." Bethany's throat tightened. "No Orsino. There's the boys, but it's different."

"Seems like you've helped them a lot here," Hawke replied before sipping her apple juice.

"Melinda and Dayla aren't mages, so it's difficult for them. But they picked up a lot from the Circle… and Sulen's father seemed to be a good teacher – he might have rivalled father."

"Hardly," Hawke murmured, tsking under her breath.

Bethany chuckled and said, "They'll be alright."

"You'll come with us then?"

"Of course," Bethany said, reaching to take Hawke's hand. "You're all the family I've got."

"I'm sure Gamlen made it out of the uprising just fine," Hawke said and patted her sister's hand. "Smelly old bit of leather that he is."

Melinda appeared in the doorway and stepped onto the porch before she stopped herself. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Hardly," Hawke replied, crossing her leg over. "Just the help lazying about. What do you need?"

Melinda laughed and shook her head before saying, "Would you mind getting some ice for me?"

"There wasn't much left, but we'll see," Hawke said as she stood with a quick grin, taking the crate and strapping it over her shoulder. She walked down the path to the barn and crossed into its shadow towards the icehouse. When she heard voices, she dropped into the shadows without a sound.

"There were templars at the market." Dayla's voice came from within the barn. "There are posters up of Anders and Marian – how long will it be till they find us?"

"Hawke has already mentioned that we will be gone before the first snow," Fenris replied, prompting Hawke to edge closer and peep in on them.

"No, do it like this," Dayla said with mild disdain, and Fenris followed her with the brush across the horse's hindquarters. "Better."

"If you say so," he murmured.

"So you are leaving with then?" Dayla asked as she caressed the horse's muzzle.

"They are my friends," Fenris replied, his hand following the brush stroke before he hesitated. "I have nowhere else. Hawke has seen me through a great deal."

"Nowhere else," Dayla said, bristling as she turned back to him. "You aren't content here?"

"I… don't know. It feels removed from the world."

"Is that good or bad?" she asked, throwing a blanket over the horse's back.

Fenris brushed a few more times before hanging the brush up. He opened his mouth to reply when Dayla took his hand and pulled him into her lips.

Hawke smacked her lips shut as she sunk back in the door jam, hiding her smile as she watched Fenris slip his hand into Dayla's hair and pull her with him back against the edge of the stall. Ogling them a moment more, she shouldered the ice crate and hurried back out into the sunlight.

* * *

><p>Cross-legged on the ground, Hawke sighed as Varric neatly clipped her hair and gathered the dark tresses together in a pouch. "You know, when I stole Carver's clothing as a girl, I never thought it'd go this far."<p>

"You should have let me do it, sister," Bethany said with a frown.

"Yes, because we could really conceal your bountiful bosom," Hawke murmured as Varric tilted her head and neatly sheared the hair down to an inch or two in length.

"Sister!"

"What? It's true," Hawke replied, mushing her meagre breasts together. "Just couldn't hide yours the same."

Fenris shook his head from where he leant against the table with his arms crossed. They all looked as Anders walked in shirtless, his hair damp and dyed a rich chestnut.

"Maker's mercy." Hawke pouted from where she sat looking up at him. "What have they done to you?"

"Is it that bad?"

"It's just peachy," Varric replied, ruffling his fingers through Hawke's cropped hair to check for strays. "Not sure I can call you Blondie anymore, though."

"Well you know what they say about rugs and drapes, it'll still fit in some regard," Hawke sighed, and Varric laughed loudly as he put the scissors down.

Anders closed his eyes and sighed as he grabbed his shirt to put it on. "Thank you for that, my love…"

"Any time, dearest," Hawke replied sweetly.

"Charming," Dayla said from the doorway. She was trying to clean the dark stains off of her hands. "Look good enough?"

"It's excellent," Anders said, ruffling a hand through his hair. "Thank you."

"Hold still, Hawke," Varric muttered as he sat down in front of her on the floor, and plied the small jar of sticky substance with a sturdy stick. He artfully applied it to her chin and upper lip, before progressively applying clumps of the hair he'd cut from her head.

"Have you considered growing a beard?" Hawke said between tight lips, trying not to move.

"No. Not ever, Hawke," Varric grumbled.

"You'd look just like every other dwarf then – at least to most humans, mm?"

Varric shook his head, separating small clusters of hair as Hawke leant up to receive Anders' kiss. "Do you know how inconvenient beards are? Or how much they itch?"

Hawke reached up to scratch Anders' stubbly cheek, grinning with the un-hairy side of her mouth. "In a manner of speaking."

"What, you expect me to grow one too?"

"Maker no," Hawke groaned. "Losing your golden locks is heartbreaking enough."

"But not my clean-shaven chin?" Varric replied, taking her jaw to turn her back to him and apply more of the sap.

Hawke sighed dramatically through closed lips. "A needed sacrifice. Can't get the elf to." She waggled her eyebrows at Fenris, who merely shook his head.

"The answer is no."

"But I'll have a beard?" Hawke countered. "You can all call me Garrett!"

"No!" Varric grumbled, finishing with the last bits of hair. Taking up the shears again, he neatly trimmed her beard.

"Hawke not good enough anymore?" Fenris said.

"This is already weird enough, sister," Bethany sighed and shook her head.

"Fine then," Hawke groaned. She set her eyes back on Varric, a delightful glint in them. "Have to do up your shirt, or shave the chest hair then."

"Hawke." Varric clacked his tongue as Anders chuckled and sat down nearby. "That you would even suggest such blasphemy!"

"Well, lives are at stake, you know," Hawke murmured as she lifted her chin and he finished.

"Bianca would never allow it," Varric replied, tilting her head back and forth to check symmetry. "That's as good as it's going to get."

"Let's see if I can scare Melinda," Hawke said as she got up and swaggered out the door. Bethany, Varric and Anders eventually followed.

"So you're really leaving with them?" Dayla asked when just Fenris remained.

A furrow knit Fenris' brow as he looked down and said, "Yes. We're endangering you and your family being here."

"Of course you are," Dayla replied, stiffening and going back outside.


	8. CH 8: Kirkwall

"Thank Dayla for her help," Anders said as he took Melinda's hand. The woman pulled him into a hug before gingerly embracing Hawke in her armour.

"And thank you for the work and roof over our heads," Hawke said with a smile. Her mabari bounded around them. "And the food in our bellies."

"You brought my children home, it is by far the least we could do." Melinda laughed a bit, rubbing where Hawke's facial hair tickled. Bethany stood and talked with Sulen and Tithan.

"I was your age when I lost my father," Bethany said, glancing at her hands.

Hawke walked over and clapped an arm around her. "And look how fine she turned out!"

"Thank you, dear sister…" Bethany rolled her eyes as Hawke took a manly stance beside her. She exhaled and looked back at the two young mages, "You'll do wonderfully. Look out for each other, be ever vigilant in your studies and mastery of your will, and you'll be able to live good lives. I'll write if I can."

"Thank you for all the help," Sulen said as Tithan turned and marched back to the house. "I know he appreciates it. As do I."

"Change is coming," Anders said, nodding.

Hawke stroked her beard and said, "Just think, by the time you look like me, mages will live free and clean."

"Have I thanked you yet for the idea of giving her that, Varric?" Anders said between his teeth.

"Not yet, but I'm sure you will, Blondie." Varric chuckled and crossed his arms.

Melinda turned to Fenris and took his hand in hers. "She sends her wishes, I know she does."

"Thank you," Fenris said under his breath and pulled his hand back. He turned towards the road as the others conversed a while more. Eventually he turned to Hawke and said, "Well?"

Bethany hugged Melinda as Hawke and the others went to catch up with Fenris. "May the Maker watch over you."

That night they camped at the edge of the mountainous prairie. Hawke sat with her mabari and looked over the barren hills to the south as they prepared to sleep under a clear sky. The earth under foot was still warm from the sun.

"So, going to tell us all the lurid details?" Hawke said with a grin as Fenris laid out his bedroll.

He scoffed softly. "I don't know. Depends if you're going to tell Bethany about Orsino and Quentin."

"What?" Bethany stood up from lighting the fire.

"Oh? She hasn't mentioned anything?"

"Fenris," Hawke said with a false laugh. "Really now."

"How the First Enchanter gave the mage who killed your mother the information he needed to conduct his demented rituals? That he knew all along?"

"What?" Bethany turned, standing over Hawke. "Why, Marian? Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Hawke pulled a twig apart, stripping the bark as she said, "It seemed like the last thing you needed to know."

"I'm not a little girl anymore! I don't always need you protecting me!" Bethany wavered, taking a step back. "I've been able to protect myself all these years in the Circle, who do you think was looking out for me?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hawke said under her breath, throwing the twig in the fire. "The man who helped kill mother?"

"You have no right to say that." Bethany's voice began to waver, and she shook her head. "No… Maker, no. Damn it, Marian." She put a hand over her mouth and stalked away from camp.

Varric rose and glanced at Hawke before walking after Bethany. His grace got up with a huff to follow too.

"Thank you for that, Fenris," Hawke said, tugging at the blades of grass and forbs under her. "Very tactful."

The elf threw aside his pack and laid down with his back to the fire. "Something to consider in the least. You will lose control someday, Hawke."

"She's not trying to control anything," Anders said, sitting up from where he lay at Hawke's back.

"Isn't she?" Fenris asked flatly, and they fell into silence.

* * *

><p>"So," Varric said and motioned east. "The road to Ostwick. Sort of, anyway."<p>

"Aye," Hawke murmured, squatting with them to look at the map that was rolled out beneath the trees at the side of the road. "How far are we from Kirkwall?"

Varric exhaled and ran a hand through his hair to tie it back from his face. "Well, we'd gone a lot farther north than I originally thought. So pretty close, actually. Five, six days?"

"We need to keep moving," Anders said, watching Hawke. "We shouldn't even be this close."

"They won't expect it," Hawke said and grinned. "They won't think us stupid enough to head so close."

Varric scoffed and shook his head. "Oh, how little they know."

"I imagine they won't even be looking for me within the city walls, "Hawke said, thumbing the false beard on her chin as she looked towards the distant shimmer of the ocean.

"I know that look," Varric said, punching her arm.

"No, are you insane?" Anders frowned.

"It has been argued that I may be," Hawke murmured, still grinning. She wiped away the smile and said, "We've been in the dark ever since we left."

"Because we can't risk it!" Anders insisted.

"Well, I'm going to. I don't want to go into Ostwick blind," Hawke said as she rolled the map closed and they stood up. She touched his arm. "I'll be fine. I'll bring his grace."

"And I'll go with her," Varric smirked and crossed his arms.

"Oh no, don't think you two are running off." Anders narrowed his eyes at Hawke and added, "I'm not letting you."

"Yes, because it won't be bad enough that I have a mabari with me." Hawke sighed dramatically. "I best have an apostate and my trusty dwarven sidekick."

"Sidekick," Varric huffed, before shaking his head. "You don't have any of my contacts – let me go. It'll put Blondie's mind at ease."

"Please, you're far more recognizable," Hawke said, drawing a hand down her darkly bearded jaw-line.

"Not if I don't want to be."

"Then you'll leave Bianca behind? In Fenris' capable hands? I'm shocked."

Varric crossed his arms and glanced away.

"Press the ones you may know at the inn," Hawke opened the map again, stabbing the location on it. "We'll rendezvous here in two weeks time. I'll be alright."

"You almost listen to him, but not to me?" Anders said.

"I like to imagine you know better than to convince me of something I've decided to do." Hawke touched his cheek with one hand and kiss the other.

"Maybe," Anders murmured.

Varric slowly sighed as they stood there. Hawke rolled the map back up and handed it to him. Finally, he said, "So you'll settle my tab at the Hanged Man?"

"Of course," Hawke said, tightening a strap on her bag. "That goes without saying."

Varric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Two weeks then."

"If three pass, go on without me to Ostwick," Hawke said, grinning.

"We're not going anywhere without you!" Anders said.

"Just make it back, Hawke," Varric grumbled.

"I will, I will," Hawke replied with a sigh. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Agh, don't say that," Varric groaned.

* * *

><p>"Heel," Hawke murmured, and the mabari grumbled and sat down. She exhaled and took a knee, running a hand over his head. "You know these roads. I'll meet you at the crossroads in a week at most."<p>

The hound tugged away and growled, getting up again.

Hawke snagged his collar and sighed. "Don't be disobedient now. You know as well as I the guards will know it's me for sure if you're wagging your ass and panting at all of them. How many other mabari did you see in Kirkwall?"

Roll his head side to side, the hound made a dubious sound.

"Yes. One that you tried to have your way with. Not even a proper bitch."

The mabari hung his head and pawed at her feet.

"I'll be alright. I promise. You keep these paths clear of bandits and templars, mmm? But no getting yourself killed," Hawke said, wrapping her arms around him. The dog laid his head heavily against her shoulder with harrumph. "If I'm not back in two weeks, you know where to go. You have to take care of Anders and Bethany, alright? Good boy."

With a final pat on his head, Hawke turned down the road without a backward glance. It was little use heading north, with the backside of the city guarded by the mountains. She gathered ratty clothing she found on bones along the way, and garbed herself in reeking moth-ridden scarves and torn trousers. She smeared dirt on her face and arms, adding to the stains on her clothing as well. Her armour made nary a sound beneath it as she walked up to the gate, its dark edifice manned by a pair of templars arguing with a merchant.

On the Wounded Coast long enough to feign a local, she bowed her head, coin in hand as the templar stopped her. She lowered her voice, and with a candied tongue and golden touch she was allowed in with quiet haste. Walking with a humbled gait into Lowtown, Hawke disappeared into the undercity on silent steps as soon as she was able.

If the templars had been oppressive under Knight-Commander Meredith, they now ruled with a steel grip. The tunnels beneath the city were packed as ever; the only familiar sight compared to the patrolled, rigid streets above. She made it through the few stalls that sold fenced goods and food, keeping her head down as she shouldered a wall and slunk to take a seat amidst the refuse. The breezes from the sea kept the huddled peasants shivering as the brisk autumn winds blew in from Ferelden.

"Another soul to drown in the darkness," an older man beside Hawke said under his breath. Just the tip of his beard was visible beneath his rags.

"Seems the only place to go," Hawke replied, her voice lilting with the well-learned accent of a native Marcher. "What with the templars above and all."

"Aye," he sighed. "Tighter than a Chantry sister's twat up above."

Hawke grinned and stifled her laughter, and the man chuckled in kind. She sniffed as the wind blew and buffeted a nearby fire. "That's one way of putting it." Wiping her nose, she chanced, "Have you seen the new Knight-Commander?"  
>"Cullen?" The man grunted shaking his head and puling his tattered cloak closer. "Nay, not many have it seems. But who's to listen to him anyway. Not the guard captain, what with how they killed the Champion."<p>

"Aye, aye," Hawke replied with a sigh, a momentary thrill in her chest. "Just barely got in at the gates."

"My sister-in-law says the Divine sent her army, that's why the streets are flooded with them," a younger man nearby said. "Spare any food?"

"I have a bit of dried meat," Hawke said and opened a concealed pouch. She broke the leathery tack. "Here."

"Mm. Don't see that down here," the man replied. "Not unless it's rat, anyway." They all chuckled and looked at the fire, chewing the hard meat. "Goat?"

"Aye," Hawke said. "Worked on a farm, always lots. I came back when I heard my mother was ill… but it seems I was too late. Spent my last coin getting into the city."

"Sorry to hear it," the older man sighed. "May she rest with the Maker."

"Bloody templars," the young man groused. "Damned us all."

* * *

><p>Aveline sighed and shut the door, hanging her head as she moved to the side room and unbuckled her armour. There was the deliberate sound of steps from deeper in the house.<p>

"Donnic?" she called. "Aren't you on patrol tonight, love?"

"Not quite," Hawke replied in a rich tenor, flashing a smile as she emerged from the dark hall. "Miss me?"

"It – you," Aveline's expression blanked, before she recognized Hawke and threw down her pauldron. She checked the door before advancing on her friend, and pinned her to the wall. "What in the Maker's name are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I thought you'd miss me?" Hawke said with a pout. The expression was wiped away as Aveline caught her jaw with a quick punch. The guard captain stalked away and removed the rest of her armour, organizing it on the waiting posts as Hawke groaned, "I deserved that."

"You deserve more for what you and your bloody partner have put me through these months," Aveline replied, exhaling as she turned back and pulled Hawke into her arms. "You're a bitch, but it's good to see you."

"Likewise, mmm?" Hawke murmured.

"I suppose I should be more surprised you made it into the city," Aveline said as she walked into the den.

"Not surprised I made it into your house?" Hawke asked as she followed.

"Not really," Aveline said, going to the cabinet and grabbing two glasses to fill with an amber liquid. She wrinkled her nose and looked at her friend. "Maker's breath, Hawke, what did you roll in?"

"Was going for the whole bedraggled peasant look," Hawke said as she posed. Her voice lilted into a different accent, and she accepted the glass, "Any work to be had, messere?"

"Hmm," Aveline said, drinking half the glass before putting it down and crossing her arms. She looked away. "Why are you here, Hawke? I've been telling people you died in the Gallows."

"Helping our cause, much obliged," Hawke said and in her glass of whiskey. "Maker, I have missed you, sweet friend."

Aveline's gaze lost itself in the fire that burned in the wide stone hearth.

"We're moving on to Ostwick, I don't know when we'll be back to Kirkwall… if ever. Is it too much to think I wanted to see you?"

"Yes," Aveline replied, prompting Hawke to laugh.

"Well, we've been good as blind for months. I wanted information too, dearest captain," Hawke said with a smirk before taking a chair.

"Smelling like shit and sitting in my house," Aveline said and paced, heavy steps wearing the floor. "You and Anders brought the whole templar army of the Divine upon Kirkwall."

"So I heard," Hawke replied, sobering slightly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Not worth a rat's tit," Aveline snapped, pursing her lips closed to steady herself before continuing. "A lot of people blame the templars for what happened – with the Chantry, with you. The statue at the docks has all but become a shrine… some defile it, but there are three times as many that keep it clean and candle-lit."

"Very touching," Hawke said demurely, grinning at her friend.

"I've had to deal with every noble upstart who thinks they can take the festering holes left behind," Aveline said, turning to face her. "Do you think it's been easy? Do you think the Divine's knights have gone easy on the guard – or on Kirkwall?"

"I've seen the bodies," Hawke replied, looking into her empty glass.

"Mages attack them at any given chance," Aveline said, looking at some distant point. "People say the Ferelden Circle outcast all their templars. That there's a commune in the Wilds where they gather to train and teach their own. What do you think the Divine will do there?"

"They were supposed to have their freedom before any of the rest," Hawke murmured. "Didn't the Hero win it after the Blight?"

"You'd know better than I, with what Anders knows," Aveline sighed and looked down, and shadows around her eyes deepened. She shook her head as Hawke smiled candidly and held out her glass. She walked to refill it. "You haven't changed. Well, save the beard - look like a sodding idiot."

"It hasn't been so long," Hawke replied, tossing one leg over the other to stroke her beard. "Have you?"

Aveline hesitated before topping up the glass. "I… I don't think you should come back, Hawke. I can't get pulled into your life anymore."

"I wasn't meaning to –"

"I'm… with child," Aveline said, thrusting the glass into Hawke's hand. She met her friend's blank face of surprise. "What? There. You know and can be on your bloody way."

Hawke took to her feet to embrace the captain, laughing as the staunch woman sighed. She said, "And there is our light in all this darkness. Donnic must be so proud!"

"Indeed," Aveline murmured, her cheeks colouring slightly. Finally, she embraced Hawke in return. "Just… get out and stay safe, alright? If nothing else, you must know Sebastian has retaken the throne in Starkhaven. He's rallying an army to march under the Divine's banner. And he is the foremost denier of your death – there's quite the bounty on yours and Anders' head."

"Oh? How much?"

"More than he ever paid us, that's for certain," Aveline murmured.

Hawke laughed and squeezed her again. "Well, I'll have to make it worthwhile for any who come after us."

"Flames, Hawke, you smell like a donkey's ass." Aveline pulled away and put the back of her hand over her mouth.

"Firsthand experience?" Hawke asked with a grin.


	9. CH 9: Diversion

"You know, this'd make a great joke," Varric said as he put the flagon of ale down. "Two apostates, a dwarf, and an elf walk into a bar… no?" Their eyes turned to him and he muttered under his breath, "Where's Hawke when you need her? Shit, don't tell her I said that."

"What would the punch-line be?" Bethany asked, tearing some bread to eat.

"I think those were Hawke's job," Fenris murmured, smirking as Varric looked at him. "Cards?"

"Maker, yes," Varric said, planting a hand on the table to scoot away and stand. As he walked towards the proprietor, a woman scurried from the kitchen in a panic.

"Hammond, it's Ryan," she said, clutching his arm. "He was kicked in the stables, he's coughing blood!"

A shadow fell over the proprietor's features and he excused himself, disappearing from the common room with his wife. The dwarf rocked on his heels to trundle back to their table, taking up his ale again.

"Well?" Fenris asked.

"Sounds like someone's day just got ruined – more than yours." Varric took a deep drink and shrugged. "Something in the stables. This is why I never ride horses."

"I would have thought that were because of your size," Anders said and smirked.

"Very funny," Varric said and smiled wryly. "Almost a stand in for Hawke. Not quite, though."

"What happened?" Bethany asked, as Varric pulled out a set of cards from his coat.

"We're not playing with those," Fenris said, and narrowed his eyes.

"You'd rather not play at all?" Varric innocently asked. "Kicked by a horse, Sunshine. None too pleasant, I'd imagine."

"Not at all," Bethany replied, looking towards the kitchen. She hesitated a moment before getting up.

"Hey, hey." Varric snagged the hem of her shirt. "Not going to stay and play?"

"I'm no good at cards." Bethany weakly smiled, before looking away. "Besides, I should help if I can."

Anders pushed his chair back to follow her across the room. "Let me. I have more experience than you."

They went through the kitchen and across the yard, when the gurgle of wet breathing and tense voices drew them towards the inn's stables. The proprietor nearly ran into them, the boy in his arms coughing blood onto his shirt. His wife pushed them out of the way.

"We cannot help you right now, please, give us space," she said in tears.

Anders glanced at Bethany before following them towards their home at the back of the inn. He tentatively said, "We are both well-versed in herbalism and injury treatment."

"We want to help if we can," Bethany said, furrowing her brow. "He's badly injured."

"You think I don't know that?" the woman replied as her husband laid the boy down on the table in the wide kitchen. "Ryan. Ryan, look at me darling!"

"Please," Anders calmly said, touching the woman's hand. "I've treated more patients than I can count." The proprietor pulled his wife back as Anders leaned over the barely breathing boy. Anders touched the blood on his lips before opening his shirt and delicately running a hand down his chest. "It seems like broken ribs… perhaps a punctured lung. I… I cannot be sure."

"Seem rather good at this," the proprietor said, watching Anders continue his exam.

"He's been healing the sick in Kirkwall for years," Bethany said, crossing her arms.

"There… there isn't much I can do," Anders said, paling as the boy shuddered.

"Yes there is," Bethany whispered, furrowing her brow.

"What are you talking about?" the wife asked, pulling away to take her son's hand. "Why won't you help him? What do you need?"

Anders sighed and closed his eyes as he said, "He is drowning in his own blood because of the puncture. I… I can heal him, but you both must step back and be quiet. I will not harm him."

"What –" the woman quieted as her husband pulled her away, and she clutched her hands over her mouth.

The light roused in Anders eyes, an ephemeral mist on his hands that sucked and plied along the injured boy. The wife shuddered, only to be clamped still by the proprietor as the mage pulled at the ether, their son trembling on the table. With his motions, the bruise on the boy's chest disappeared, and his breathing trembled into normality.

Anders sighed and leaned over the table, a sweat of exhaustion on his brow. The boy opened his eyes to him, tears clinging in his eyes. The mage smiled softly and touched his ribs chest, "Do not move, I'm here to help. Tell me how much this hurts. Here? Here?" When the boy nodded and bit his lip, Anders turned his head, "Bethany, perhaps the lady of the house would show you the fields out back? Some elfroot would help."

"Of course," Bethany said, taking the woman's to lead her back outside. The owner of the inn hovered nearby, as Anders healed the boy once more and put him to sleep.

"He should be alright – he'll need a week's rest, even when I've put on the poultice. "

The man nodded, watching Anders check his son's hands and eyes as he said, "So. Apostate, hmm?"

"Something like that," Anders chuckled, standing to wipe his hands on the cloth the man offered. "Don't suppose it'd be too much to ask you not to mention it to anyone?"

The man shook his head once, taking Anders' hand in a firm shake as he said, "They won't hear a thing from me. Not when you've saved my boy's life."

* * *

><p>"Then go back to her, Fenris," Bethany said, sitting on the porch beside him. "You aren't obligated to come with us, you know."<p>

"That seems easy enough when you say it," Fenris murmured, looking at his linked hands. "Without a goodbye to Hawke? It doesn't seem right."

"Do you really want to put up with her saying goodbye? What she might do?"

Fenris chuckled and sat back, glancing at Bethany, "Maybe you're right." He sighed and looked across the road to where a river ran. "Do you think I can do that? Have a normal life?"

"Depends what is normal to you," Bethany said under her breath. She turned over the shirt in her hands, examining her needlework before finishing the patch. "Normal is what you make it. You've probably had enough adventures and suffering for a lifetime."

Exhaling slowly, Fenris quietly said, "You are a kind person – and a good mage, Bethany. I wish I could have known you better."

"I know how much that means coming from you," Bethany chuckled, linking her hands together over the shirt and leaning back. "Sister talked about you sometimes."

Fenris chuckled once and said, "I can only imagine."

"You're going to go then?"

Pressing his lips together, he looked back at the river and said, "I think so."

"She'll miss you, you know," Bethany said. "Varric too, you should talk to him."

"What, and not Anders?"

Bethany smiled tiredly and said, "Do you want Anders to miss you?"

"Maybe not," Fenris chuckled.

The sound of voices inside the inn escalated, and there was the crack of wood and clatter of boots. The shouts that followed were me with growing clatter, before the inn trembled with the whoosh of lightning, and the small window behind them flickering with light.

"What in the –" Fenris was on his feet as Anders burst out the front door with Varric stumbling on his heels. They backed into the road, and Bethany followed.

"See? What did I tell you!" the proprietor's wife came out the door, a knife in her hand and a number of the other patrons at her back. "A maleficar."

"I saved your son's life," Anders choked, rousing the magic to heal Varric, as the dwarf clutched his chest and coughed up blood.

"You should be in the Circle," the haggard man at her side replied. "You have no place frightening our families."

"Frightening them," Anders said in disbelief, glancing to Bethany. He beckoned to her. "Fenris, we… we need to go."

"I simply won't allow you to walk away, Anders," another man said, and he dropped his hood and came down the steps towards them.

"Jenay," Anders said with disbelief, fingers tightening on his staff as he stretched a protective arm out to his friends. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I didn't believe it at first," the man replied, shaking his head. "What you did to the chantry. It's true, isn't it?"

"Sweet Andraste." The proprietor's wife cringed back into the safety of the guests.

"Yes," Anders' voice wavered, and he almost faltered, before he steeled himself. "It will change the world for the good of all mages. It saved us from the slaughter!"

"I trusted you!" Jenay punched towards them with the pommel of his sword. "I helped you! I thought you wanted to do what was right!"

"Any explanation would be nice, Blondie," Varric said under his breath, expression pained.

"He… he's a templar who helped us – who helped the underground... I did what was needed. I gave justice to my kin and kind," Anders replied, shaking his head. "I could not sit by any longer."

"You're the one from Kirkwall," the proprietor's wife stammered, white to her roots. "He – he killed the grand cleric! The one the Divine's looking for!"

"Please tell me you had an exit strategy?" Varric mumbled, closing his eyes at the pain welling through his chest.

"Don't do this, Jenay," Anders said, staring the man down. "Let us leave."

"Not after what you did," the templar growled. As he moved, there was a flash of blue, and no sooner had Jenay spoke than he was cut down by a swift lyrium fist. The templar gurgled a breath and collapsed to the ground, and the Marchers looked on in half-shock.

Fenris turned on them with a flourish of his broadsword. "Anyone else wishing to play the righteous hero?" he yelled, and the men and women scrambled back along the porch of the inn. Blood dripped from his armoured fingertips.

With a flourish of his hands, Anders conjured a haze of sleep, and the dark mist enveloped the inn. The crowd slumped to the ground as the magic took, and he shook his head, "Fenris… I…"

"I didn't do that for you," the elf snapped, turning away from him to look at Bethany. "You'll tell Hawke for me?"

"We need to get going. The road to Ostwick can't wait," Varric said, and Bethany grabbed his arm as he slumped.

"Keep still," she whispered, before healing him more and helping him back to his feet.

"I'm not just abandoning Marian," Anders said, the strain of fear in his voice. "Not now. Now after everything we've been through."

"The last thing she would want is you throwing yourself in the fire," Bethany said, brushing Varric's coat off before going to Fenris. "Hurry. Go before they wake."

Exhaling sharply, Fenris' eyes turned to Varric and his voice grumbled low, "You've been a true friend, Varric. I will pray that Hawke doesn't get you killed."

"Where the… great," Varric said, shaking his head as Fenris turned back towards the hills and began to jog away.

"He's going back to her," Bethany quietly said, exchanging glances with Varric. "Lead the way."

Anders cast another spell over the drowsy mob, and said, "Go. I'm not worth much without Marian."

"Don't be an idiot, Blondie, she can handle herself –"

"I don't care," Anders said, a light coalescing about his hands as he cast wards on either of them. He shook his head and turned on the road to Kirkwall. "The spell won't hold. So you might as well look to meet us in Ostwick."

"Bloody sodding… damn it," Varric muttered, before clearing his throat and yelling after him. "She won't be happy about it, Blondie!"  
>Bethany touched his shoulder. "We have to go."<p>

"Shit, I know," Varric sighed, putting a hand on the small of her back and shaking his head.


	10. CH 10: The Only Road

Marching on the edge of the highway, Hawke kept her hood up, and her hound trotted close against her leg. The road was dry, and little tufts of dirt kicked up with her steps, quickly blowing away in the oceanic breeze. The shrubs around the road were brown, and the scant trees were starting to change colour.

The mabari lifted his muzzle into the air, skipping a few paces forward as he sniffed and swivelled. Hawke continued on, arms crossed as she looked at the clouds. The hound huffed a low woof and pranced around.

"I don't like the look of the clouds either, boy," she quietly said.

The mabari made a dubious sound and shook his head, jogging farther ahead as he sniffed again, nose lifting up.

"Oh for the love of... you better not be all excited about rolling in some dead rabbit agai- hey!" Hawke's hood dropped as she jogged forward, hearing her mabari woof again before he began to run more earnestly. "No, your grace! Sit!" When the dog hesitated and looked back to her, she grumbled and began to run after him. "Bloody dog!"

As Hawke struggled to catch up before stopping in the road to yell, "Alright, your grace, where are you?"

There was a brief clip of laughter, and Hawke darted into the trees to follow it. A yelp followed, and she emerged into a small clearing, she saw her hound pulling down on Anders' shirt.

"Alright, yeesh, I - Marian," Anders said as he looked up, and the dog let go as he stepped into her advance. He wrapped her in his arms, lips in her hair as he murmured, "What are you doing here?"

"Me? We both knew where I was going," she replied, turning to hush her mabari as he barked. "Why aren't you at the inn? Maker... if not for his grace."

"There were... complications," Anders said, running his hand down her cheek and shaking his head as he rubbed her chin. "You're better without the beard. Not that I minded that much."

"And what about you," Hawke said with a grin, scratching his scruff. "I just haven't had the time to reapply it."

Expression softening, Anders tugged her up into his lips, and Hawke made a muffled sound as they kissed, before she could finally pull away. The sky rumbled and drops began to fall.

"That's all fine and lovely, but we need to find shelter."

"I love you," Anders said, thumbing the droplets of rain over her cheek.

Hawke looked back up at him, and a smirk slowly formed as she said, "I've missed you. You can tell me all the lovely details when we're somewhere out of the rain."

Down in the lee of a hill some time later, Hawke flapped her oilskin cloak over the lattice of eroded rock to block the rain. She crawled into the small space with him as her mabari huffed and lay down just outside, ears flattened in displeasure.

"You lost the toss, your grace," Hawke said as she leant and smacked his hindquarters. The hound turned his face away in reply, looking over the hills nearby. "Sore loser, he is."

Anders just shook his head, summoning a fire to warm them as he looked at her, "You do cheat."

"Well, maybe sometimes," Hawke said under her breath, peering comically at the dog before smiling. Sighing she pushed her piled armour out of the way and laid back in the small space, watching the clouds further darken the sky. Anders reclined beside her, and they watched the rain.

"Aveline is pregnant," she said in a loud whisper.

"Really? That... that..." Anders' words trailed away and he swallowed thickly. "Talk about timing, right?"

"I know, I mean if anyone, they deserve it," Hawke chuckled, and her hand dragged to slip into his grasp. "The Divine's army is rallying to march."

"We - I heard," Anders quietly said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hawke's hand. Drawing a slow breath, he tentatively said, "Marian... maybe I have no place to ask, maybe I destroyed something when I gave it back to you but..."

Hawke rolled her head to rest on Anders' shoulder, waiting as he gathered his thoughts.

"May I have the amulet back?"

Sitting up too quickly, Hawke smacked her head on the rock over head, and sharply cried out, "Maker's balls! Agh." She pulled her hand away, looking at the bit of blood there before she looked at him and oddly chuckled. "Do you really want it, Anders? I don't know if I could stomach you giving it back again."

"I do," Anders quickly said, and followed with, "I won't."

Sitting up with greater care, Hawke reached around her neck and tugged the amulet from where it was hidden under her shirt.

"Marian," Anders sighs, reaching up to heal her head. "How are you even in one piece? Already bleeding."

"I pretended I was someone else," Hawke waggled her brow, clasping her mother's necklace around Anders' neck. She touched the amulet there, expression uncommonly tender. "Be mine?"

"Any of the good in me," Anders said, and he sat up to kiss her, tangling his fingers into the base of her hair. Their tongues twined and Hawke dragged her hand along his chest, shifting to straddle his waist. When he fit his hand to the curve of her breast, she ground their hips together, and promptly smacked her head again.

"Shit!" Hawke said, jaw dropping as she clutched her head. Laughter bubbled in her throat, "Sorry. I'm an idiot."

"It's why I love you," Anders sighed, pulling her back down beside him. He granted his healing touch once more, before wiping away the blood. "No more of that, mm?"

"No guarantees," Hawke murmured, and he kissed her cheek. She reached for his hand again, and curled in against his side, placing her head safely in the crook of his shoulder. The heavens rumbled, and her mabari harrumphed in reply, rolling on his side to stare out from their den.

After a while, Anders quietly said, "I've been a Grey Warden almost a decade now, you know."

"And here you always told me you'd traded in that lot," Hawke whispered, dragging her fingers over his abdomen.

"Some parts of it you can't walk away from."

"Like anything, it lingers with us, aye."

Anders cradled her closer, kissing her hair as he said, "it's unfair for you to lose so much for me."

"I thought we'd gotten past this," Hawke said, almost sitting up. Putting out a hand to feel where the rock overhang was, she looked down at him and kissed his chin. "Anders, I am used to running with free mages."

"Not apostates?"

"No," Hawke smirked. "Someone kept telling me it had negative connotations." As Anders smiled, she touched the amulet around his neck again. "Anders, I love you. And I'm not going to any prison. And I've no desire for a noose around my neck."

"I'm going to die a lot sooner than most people," he blurted.

"Hasn't Varric been saying that for years?" Hawke tilted her head, sinking back into the comfortable spot at his side. Nudging her chin against his chest, she murmured, "Yet here you are."

"That's not what I meant." Anders plied his fingers over her shoulder, staring at the stone overhead. "Being a Grey Warden... is a death sentence."

"Well... how long do you have then?"

"Now?" Anders inhaled slowly before quietly saying, "Twenty years at most. Maybe less before..."

Hawke arched her brow.

"Before I succumb to the taint," Anders whispered, tilting his lips against her forehead. He closed his eyes as she ran her hands over his chest and stomach again. "Most go into the Deep Roads to die fighting rather than become what they give up their lives to hunt."

The sound of the rain filled the space between the next words, and a flicker in the sky illuminated the clouds. The rumble followed some time later, a grumpy growl of disquiet.

Eyes refocusing again, Hawke exhaled and said, "Really, do you honestly think I'll outlive you by that much? How will I survive without the most talented healer in Thedas to patch me up?" She poked his abdomen. "You've seen what kind of life I lead."

Anders chuckled quietly, nuzzling her forehead, "Perhaps. Is that supposed to be a comfort, love?"

"It doesn't matter," Hawke murmured, closing her eyes and exhaling. "I'll be there either way. I'll take whatever I can get. However long it lasts."

* * *

><p>"Ostwick," Varric said under his breath. He huffed a bit as he said, "Didn't think we'd make it."<p>

"I knew you'd get us here," Bethany quietly said as they approached the city gates.

"Anything for you, Sunshine," Varric smiled with a strain and took her arm. "Now just play the part and try and look fat for a change."

"What?"

"Shh," Varric hushed with a grin, and when the guards flagged him down he flashed his clan ring. "It is good to find the fine city of Ostwick, my friend. I'm with the Merchant's Guild - Tethras family. We lost nearly everything on the road - scarce got away with our lives."

"A fortunate turn," the guard gruffly replied. "Your papers?"

"Please," Varric said, clapping a few gold soveriegns in the man's hand, "my steward's wife is with child, he will be eager to see her alive and well. We will be no burden on your good city, and my family is no doubt worried."

The guard palmed the coins as he glanced over the pair, "Best be on your guard, the city's in turmoil since the Teryn died - just mind your business."

"That's what a merchant does best." Varric smirked and bowed, before leading Bethany on through the city gates.

When they were up the street and out of earshot, Varric said, "I almost sound like I know what I'm doing."

"Don't let it go to your head," Bethany chuckled, looking down. "So where are we going to go?"

Varric chuckled tiredly and led them on as he said, "I know just the place."

* * *

><p>"Right then! We'd best stay off the road - since we're murdering fugitives, and all." Hawke said as led the way through the sparse, dry hills. The mabari at her side made a dubious sound. "I beg your pardon, good ser?"<p>

"You do know you're going the wrong way." Anders said, strolling after her with his arms crossed.

"Nonsense."

"Trust me, sweetheart. I got pretty good at finding my way around, with all the times I escaped the Circle."

"Impertinence? Not what I would have expected of you," Hawke said as she stopped, trying to keep a straight face. "You shall have to be flogged."

Anders laughed softly, "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me, mage," Hawke pointed at him, following as he turned around. "You'll regret saying that. I won't forget it."

"I'm sure," Anders chuckled.

Hawke slowly smiled as they walked, catching up to him as she said, "I don't think I ever get tired of hearing your laughter. I remember when you didn't."

"Well, you were persistent."

Hawke sighed, obviously pleased with herself. "I was, wasn't I?" She reached for his arm, giving him a squeeze. "Probably best. I was leading us away from the men tracking us."

Anders halted, but she tugged him onward as he said, "There – there are men following us?"

"Yes, I thought I'd lost them before his grace found you," Hawke said and sighed. "I did for a bit, but it seems they've gotten persistent."

"Were you planning on telling me?"

Hawke smiled sweetly and kissed the bearded curve of his jaw before she said, "I didn't think it worth worrying you, dearest. No, no, don't look. They aren't that obvious, you know."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I'll think of something," Hawke sucked in her bottom lip, staring at the horizon as they picked up their pace. At her side, her mabari grumbled and she reached down to pat him. There was a whizz through the air, and a bolt graced between them. "That decides that. Try and hit my dog, hmm?"

As Hawke drew her blade, the assassins were upon them. Her mabari snarled and leapt at the nearest man, catching his arm and jerking it with a sickening pop. The man screamed, and when he faltered, the dog finished him off. Behind Hawke, Anders conjured a crack of ice and hit the man advancing on him.

"Do you know who you're fucking with?" Hawke snarled as she punted the man she fought in the loins. He steeled himself but staggered, deflecting her advance and stabbing her quickly. Cursing, she slashed across his throat before he could reply. Turning away, she leapt upon another attacker fuddled by lightning and fire, and the man's scream cut away as she buried her daggers deep in his kidneys.

The last pair tried to escape, but Hawke caught one, and as Anders paralyzed them, she threw the assassin to the ground. Tearing their hood off, Hawk found herself eye to eye with a Rivaini woman.

"The other's getting away," Anders breathlessly said. His grace bounded around them, snuffing between the bodies.

"Leave him," Hawke said, pressing her dagger up under the chin of the woman. "How did you find us? Who sent you?"

"Hang-Hanged Man," the woman choked, before her mouth filled with blood and her eyes glazed. Hawke growled to herself and rose, pacing as she looked to where the other had run. They were out of sight.

"You went to the Hanged Man," Anders said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Perhaps," Hawke said under her breath, kicking dirt on the fallen woman.

"What were you thinking!"

Hawke wiped off her blades and said, "I was thinking I could use a drink, that's what?" She cringed, and flipped open her armour, showing where one of the blades hand grazed her back.

Anders made a frustrated sound, turning to light the bodies on fire.

"They weren't supposed to recognize me! I had a beard, Anders," Hawke laughed, sucking a breath through her teeth as she touched the wound again. She whimpered and looked at him with pleading eyes. "I was manly, I promise."

Ensuring the bodies were unrecognizable, Anders doused the flames with ice and cast a cursory glance at the wound. "You're fine. I should let you suffer, maybe it'd teach you a lesson."

"But Anders, pleaaaaase," Hawke pleaded, holding her ground. "Do you reaaaaally want to listen to me allll the way to Ostwick? You'd leave me in pain?"

"You can walk," Anders replied, smirking. "You'll just have to trust me that you'll be fine."

Hawke held her ground and whimpered, "Aaaaanders."

Patting his leg, Anders turned away, still smirking. "Come on, your grace." The hound stared at Hawke a moment before huffing indignantly and following him.


	11. CH 11: Ostwick

Hawke pulled the small knife from her boot, looking at it before kissing the handle and offering it up to the driver of the cart. The grizzled man hesitated before taking it and leaning down.

"Don't I get a kiss too, pretty?"

"Of steel, perhaps?" Hawke smiled sweetly and pulled a few silvers from her belt, leaving them on the seat beside the traveller. "Thank you again, messere."

The man harrumphed and cracked the reins of the horse, disappearing toward the city in the distance. Hawke exhaled and turned to Anders.

"That was bloody awful," she grumbled.

"Better than a good walk," Anders murmured, and they wandered to the side of the road. The fields surrounding Ostwick were flaxen stubble and tilled, rich earth at the end of the season. A light fog hung over the rolling fields, and behind them the shadows of the Vimmark Mountains stretched into obscurity.

"Do you know much about Ostwick?" Hawke asked as she patted her hound and they walked through the landholdings.

"Hmm?" Anders said in his distraction, looking to her and shaking his head. "No. Not really. Well – there's a Warden outpost here. And a Circle. And a chantry."

"A chantry?" Hawke said with animation, putting a hand over her heart. "Lucky us indeed, aren't you delighted?"

Anders smirked at her and said, "If anyone else made the jokes you do…"

"I know," Hawke sighed. "They wouldn't be nearly as funny."

The houses grew thicker as they approached the city gates, and the street widened into a lively market. Anders reached for Hawke's hand, and she grinned at him. Hesitating, she took a knee and tugged the collar of her mabari.

"Meet us inside the gates, boy," she kissed the top of his head when he grumbled. "We'll be alright. Can't be seen together, it's for all of our safety."

Huffing a reply, the mabari turned and trotted off into the crowd. Hawke watched him go before something caught her attention, and she tugged Anders along with her.

"Shouldn't we be going to meet him?"

"In a minute," Hawke murmured, and pulled a paper off the market board. Her jaw dropped as she showed it to him and whispered, "I don't look like that!"

"Marian," Anders hissed, tugging the poster from her grasp. The parchment crinkled, and he looked at the damning words upon it. "I shouldn't be so surprised."

"You there," a guard called from nearby, and Hawke snagged the paper back. "What do you think you're doing?"

Anders paled. Hawke cleared her throat and bit her lip before saying, "Well, I was certain I'd seen this pair recently."

The guard appraised her and crossed his arms. "You've seen them? The Kirkwall Champion and the apostate who blew up the chantry?"

"Maker's mercy," Hawke said, putting a hand to her breast. She looked to Anders, a sparkle in her pleading eyes. "To think, we ourselves might have been endangered!"

"Fortunate indeed," Anders coughed softly.

Hawke pointed at the parchment, nodding and handing it back to the guard, "They had a massive dog with them, smelly thing. They were heading north, a day's travel outside the city. Asked us for food and… Blessed Andraste, I cannot believe it was them! Long blond hair, just like that. He… he seemed so nice."

"It's alright dear," Anders said and patted her hand, trying not to roll his eyes.

"A day's travel, you say?" The guard asked, and Hawke nodded. He produced a silver for her, and she palmed it as he said, "You've done a great service to the Maker. Thank you, serah."

"Of course," Hawke said, and finally let Anders steer her away. When they had gotten far enough, she dropped the hand from her mouth and laughed.

"Be quiet," Anders murmured, trying not to laugh as they entered the city.

* * *

><p>Hawke dropped a few coins in the merchant's hand, smiling thinly as she took the cloak. She walked back down the street to where Anders was staring up at the sky. The dark clouds seemed more menacing in the twilight, and the market was closing.<p>

"Here," she softly said, and he pulled out of his distraction as Hawke threw it around his shoulders.

"We should be saving our coin."

"You're cold, and I can always get more." Hawke smirked, thumbing the light beard on his chin. "And unfortunately I can't warm you up the way I prefer right now."

Anders kissed her cheek, slipping his hand in hers. His grace huffed and drew their attention, and Hawke squeezed his hand.

"Templars," she whispered. "Let's move."

"They're looking for mages," Anders murmured, unable to look away from the clutch of armoured zealots moving towards them. "What did I tell you? It wasn't just Kirkwall."

"Love," Hawke hissed, pulling his hand, "we'll help them, I promise. But when we're ready."

Anders shook his head as the mabari nudged him in time with Hawke's tug, and they scurried into a side alley as he said, "What is this? You cautioning me against leaping into the fray?"

"Yes, yes, don't die of shock now," Hawke murmured as she led them over the broken cobbles and filth to the next street. She pushed him out of the way as someone overhead emptied a chamber pot. "Just don't let - hey!"

A pickpocket jolted and slipped on the wet stone as Hawke took off after them, and they'd scarce made it to the next alley before she threw herself at him. The young man squealed, crushed against the wall as Hawke's blade pressed up under his chin.

"Nice try," she hissed, snagging the meagre coin purse back. It disappeared from sight as she called out. "How's that for throwing myself into things?"

Anders sighed, and her mabari growled and sat beside her, glowering up at the thief.

"L-let me go, please don't feed me to that thing!"

Hawke chuckled coyly, making the man yelp again as she nicked a spot with her dagger and drew a drip of blood. "Oh I don't know, you don't look all that tasty. What do you think, your grace?" The hound huffed and shook his head, ears flapping. "Seems like it's your lucky day, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, messere, please, yes I - I'm sorry!"

"Of course you are, of course you are," Hawke purred, still pinning him against the wall as she dextrously toyed with her dagger. "I might let you run on your way if you tell me something."

"Anything messere, I swear!" he cringed against the side of the house, as her mabari growled again.

"Where would I find the seediest, smelliest, most disreputable tavern in Ostwick, mmm?"

"Next quarter," the man said with mild confusion. "The Bitter End."

With a flick of her wrist, Hawke threw the man out of her way, and the thief stumbled to stay standing as she said, "Good lad. Off you go." When he hesitated, her mabari barked and he scrambled away.

"What good does that do us? This isn't the time to drink."

"Well," Hawke said as she wiped the drip of blood from the tip of her dagger. She smiled sweetly and continued, "It's a start?"

* * *

><p>"Sorry, boy," Hawke said, ruffling her mabari's ears as he plunked his backside down in the street outside the tavern. "You know how they feel about dogs. Watch for our favourite friends, mm?"<p>

The mabari grumbled and turned his back on her, watching down the street with particular disdain.

Anders kept on Hawke's heels as she pushed into the shady tavern, the air reeking of sweat, ale, and other savoury delights. He pressed his lips in a fine line, dipping by her ear to say, "Lovely choice, dear."

"I knew you'd like it," Hawke replied with a smirk, and kept a hand on her belt as she walked to the barkeep. She tapped a few coppers down and motioned for a drink.

Leaning comfortably on the counter, Hawke took up the glass and drank deep, emptying it before grabbing the second flagon. "What?" Anders was staring at her. "Want one? I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"No," he replied, almost grinning.

"Good, I didn't really want to share," Hawke said under her breath, swallowing a burp.

Anders let his eyes roam and crossed his arms as Hawke nursed the second drink with greater temperance. He wandered through a few of the tables. It wasn't long before Hawke heard raised voices behind her, and she downed the rest of her drink, spinning to see a bedraggled man clutching Anders by the collar.

"Pretty boy like you shouldn't be in a place like this," the man growled, pushing Anders back a step and knocking over a chair. "Getting' in people's ways."

"Right," Anders said, clearing his throat. "Hey, fancy that, look -"

The man turned his head into Hawke's right hook, and his head snapped back with a crack. As he dropped Anders, she followed through and kneed him in the groin, getting off another punch before he fell back and knocked over a barrel. The tavern fell quiet as he huffed and struggled to his feet.

"Don't touch what's not yours," Hawke said, flexing her fist as he got up.

"You bitch, walking in here like -"

"Why don't you get the nice lady a drink?" There was the defined click of a loaded crossbow.

Hawke turned, keeping Anders behind her as a grin blossomed on her lips. "And who might that be, but my favourite dwarf!"

"Naturally," Varric replied as he kept Bianca trained on the man. He motioned towards the bar with his babe. "Go on then, some whiskey for us mm? Back to your vices, people."

Hawke shook her head, stooping to embrace Varric with a sigh. "And already getting me drinks. I knew I missed you for a reason."

"And I knew you'd be able to find me," Varric chuckled in reply, giving her backside a smack and motioning towards where Bethany sat in the corner of the tavern. "Let's settle in and figure out what problems we're going to cause next."

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Hawke said with a soft laugh as Bethany stood up into her embrace. She sighed. "Thank you for taking care of her."

"Hey, I was saving my own hide," Varric replied with a wink at Bethany. "Easier not to try and deal with you, Hawke, if I let something happen to Sunshine."

"Gee, thanks," Bethany murmured.

"Yes," Hawke chuckled, looking at her sister again. "You're looking lovely. Stand out in here like a sore thumb."

Anders cleared his throat, glancing back at the man who'd grabbed him - and was now paying for their drinks and nursing a black eye. "Don't suppose there are rooms here? Get us out of the public eye?"

"Of course, of course," Varric sighed, flashing a smile and offering a silver to the barmaid. "These and another round to my room."

They ate and drank in the cramped room, and Bethany passed out from the whiskey before too long. It waned into the wee hours, and almost seemed like old times when Anders took half of the rickety bed and fell asleep while Hawke and Varric kept drinking. They crept up onto the roof of the tavern and stared at the stars, lubricated and half-eyed.

"I've spent all these years doing things for a reason," Hawke murmured, hugging her legs as she leant against him. "Do you remember the qunari mercenary? The one who's name meant nothing?"

"He frequented the Hanged Man - of course I remember him," Varric said with a smirk.

"He said something to the effect that - that rich people don't have jobs. They have causes." Hawke exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "What is the point of any of this anymore, Varric? Of everything we've been doing?"

"I thought that would have become apparent the first night we went hungry in the hills."

Hawke glanced at him and her head lolled sideways.

"Survive," Varric said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"I'm not sure that's enough for me," Hawke slurred.

Varric chuckled darkly. "That doesn't really surprise me, beautiful."

"I miss being stupid and immature," Hawke said after a bit, and she sighed. "I miss doing something for the fun of it. Even when we were poor, I could always be an idiot."

"Well, don't you worry your pretty littlehead. I'd say you've still got plenty of time for that. And we're well on our way to being flat broke."

"Always so reassuring," Hawke said and closed her eyes, letting her head plunk onto his shoulder.

Varric steeled his arm around Hawke and gave her a squeeze. "Yes, yes, I know, messere."

"We have all the bright ideas, you know," Hawke murmured. "Drinking on rooftops and such."


	12. CH 12: Mages & Merchants

Hawke drew water from the well, and her head hung heavy as she trudged back through the dark streets to the Bitter End. She took the back stairs to their meagre, shared room and entered without a sound, stopping short as she almost ran into Anders.

"You're still up. I thought you had somewhere to be," she said, putting the bucket on the table and slopping water over it. "Shit."

Anders snagged a rag from nearby to mop it up, and Hawke half-smiled as she took it and wiped some of the grime from her features.

"I do," he replied, eyes darting away. "But... I thought you would want to come."

Hawke arched her brow, expression slack as she cleaned the creases under her eyes. "Would I?"

"That whole not keeping you in the dark thing?" Anders rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Or something like that, do I actually remember it?"

Smiling despite the darkness around her eyes, Hawke said, "I don't know, should I quite trust my ears? Sorry I was late then - wait, what are we doing?" She narrowed her eyes at him and smirked.

"Meeting some people," Anders said and looked down. "Seems about time – I mean, they've known who you are a long time now."  
>"Mages?"<p>

"Something like that?" Anders said with a chuckle, and he motioned towards the door. "It's not far."

Hawke followed Anders through the streets. "How did you find them? Is this what you've been doing all day?"

"Varric helped," Anders replied. "And yes. Sort of, anyway. There's an epidemic in the northern quarter, you know. I think it's something in the water..."

"Can't keep you away from the infirm, can we?" Hawke said with a smile, eyes alert as they walked through the dark streets.

"It's something," he said. "I know Bethany is just as restless."

"Try not to get yourselves killed? What fun would I have without an apostate on each arm?" Hawke snagged Anders' arm as he tripped over an irregular cobble. "You didn't ask Bethany to come?"

"She's meeting us there," Anders said with a chuckle.

"I see," Hawke said as she scratched her re-affixed beard. "Seems I'm the last one to know."

"Varric isn't there?" Anders replied and motioned into a nearby courtyard. They snuck down a back alley.

Hawke shivered as the wind kicked up, and bristled with indignation. "Well. There's that at least."

Anders smirked and touched his hand against a hidden door, a small flare of magic in his touch. When the handle appeared a moment later, he opened it to reveal a stairwell down into the earth. When they were closed off in the dark, he summoned a spellwisp and kept leading them on.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Hawke whispered, though her voice echoed as they emerged into an earthen tunnel.

"Wander openly as a mage?" Anders chuckled. "Live so that everyone can see we're a couple? Have children I wouldn't fear for?"

"Maker," Hawke murmured, "here I was trying to offer a compliment."

They soon emerged into an underground room, and those present stopped what they were doing. A fire burnt in a hearth on the far wall, and alcoves were dug into the stone and earth to create beds. Bethany looked up from where she was by the table in the middle of the room.

"Anders," an older elven woman beside Bethany smiled and came over, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Wasn't sure you were going to make it."

"I wanted to, well… bring the Champion."

"Hawke, thank you," she said, taking the mage's hand. "I think Champion has gone out of fashion."

"It's an honour to have you here," the lady mage replied with a slight laugh. "I'm Aretria."

"I thought the Champion was a woman." Another mage said as he drifted close to appraise her.

Hawke put her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Did my breasts give me away? I told you we had to bind them tighter."

"Bloody good job you've done for us, with what you've did to the Chantry," he napped, a glow in his hand as he stepped towards her. "As if things weren't hard enough!"

"I knew this would come up," Anders sighed and inhaled to speak, but Hawke cut him off.

"Well you'll be glad to know it's not on my list to blow up anymore buildings this time," Hawke said with a cavalier smile. "Not yet, at least. Got my fill on that last one."

"It freed us in the end, Nolan," Bethany said, letting the scroll under her hand roll shut atop the table. "Would you still want to be there? Or do you forget what they did to us?"

"Lovely," Aretria said and cleared her throat. "You'll excuse us. When we heard you'd blown up the Chantry, it came as quite a shock. It's hard to believe we're meeting you."

"In the flesh," Hawke replied. She ran a hand through her short hair and straightened her posture. "I won't deny, you aren't the first to bask in my glow."

"Don't encourage her." Bethany closed her eyes and shook her head.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to stay here for the day," Bethany said.<p>

"What? But it gets so cold without you," Hawke said as she stopped by the door. She pouted. "I'll miss you, and who will protect you."

"We're safe here," Bethany replied. She blinked lethargically. "I feel safer here than I ever did in Kirkwall, really."

"She'll be safe," Anders said, taking Hawke's hand. "Trust me."

Hawke leant to accept a kiss on her cheek from Bethany, smiling as her sister tugged the beard stuck to her chin.

"Reminds me of father too much some days," she quietly said.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Hawke said and cleared her throat, a lopsided grin on her lips. The lamps were dark and the cold sky held a hint of dawn as Hawke and Anders took back to the streets.

"So, where did you get the bright idea to claim responsibility for what happened in Kirkwall?" Anders said after walking a moment in silence.

"It just came to me," Hawke replied, waving her hand. "Like most of my brilliant ideas."

Anders grabbed her arm, and they stopped at the junction of an alley. "Brilliant indeed. It isn't your burden to bear, love."

"Of course it is," Hawke replied, tugging to continue. When Anders didn't budge, she walked back and took his hand in hers. "Come, I know we have the ability to walk and talk. And if not, you heal me and make it so."

Anders sighed and squeezed her hand, picking up his pace through the streets. "I just don't know what to think sometimes, Marian."

"Welcome to the club," Hawke sighed, skipping now and then to keep up with him. She tugged him to a stop in the alley beside the Bitter End. "Look, it's just better if people think it's my fault. Varric's built quite the reputation around me, and perhaps less idiots will come seeking my head than yours."

"I'd rather they not go after it at all," Anders replied.

"Likewise," Hawke said, smirking. "I am rather attached to it, after all."

Anders sighed and closed his eyes.

Cupping his cheek, Hawke drew him down closer to her, kissing his cold-reddened cheeks and nose. When she nuzzled the stubble on their jawlines together, he snorted and tried to suppress his smile.

"The templars will come for you and Bethany. Things won't get easier before they get worse," Hawke whispered. "And I'll do anything to keep myself between you and them."

"Marian…"

"Let them come for me. Let them blame me," she purred and kissed him. "Let them think I planned it all along."

* * *

><p>"So, I hope you've done something worthwhile with your time in my absence," Hawke said as they wove through the streets of Ostwick. Her chin donned the dark, trimmed beard and there was ash in her short hair, adding a decade to her features.<p>

"Pardon me, your highness," Varric scoffed, adjusting Bianca as they turned down an alley. "I hadn't realized I was still in your service."

"Varric," Hawke laughed, "you know as well as I that I'd never have gotten anywhere in Kirkwall without you."

He stopped in the street and raised his hands, to the rest of Ostwick's oblivion. "Someone please tell me they witnessed that? Anyone?"

"Our ears only, chum," Hawke said in a false masculine tenor, patting Varric hard on the shoulder. "You said you'd been here before."

"The merchants travel between guilds sometimes," Varric said as they slipped from the shadows into an open market. "And throwing my name around, I've gotten a bit of work. Well, my brother's name at least, but what do they need to know?"

"Quite fitting," Hawke said with a grin.

Impersonating Bartrand, Varric cleared his throat and said, "That worthless nug of a brother - no accounting for tradition, an embarrassment to the Tethras name and its history! If they ever find him, I'll drown him myself."

Hawke crossed her arms and solemnly nodded, fingers running up her bearded chin as she replied, "Yes, a pity that."

"They might have work for you," Varric said, steering them back on track. "I don't know about Blondie and your sister though."

"He wants to do something. Needs to, I think," she said and furrowed her brow. "It's why we came here."

"Just keep him away from flammables and chantries, hmm?" Varric said and shook his head, before catching the hem of Hawke's jerkin and tugging her with him into the shadow of an awning. "Damn it, I was hoping they'd left. Keep your eyes down."

"Eyes on the chest hair?" Hawke smirked when he hit her arm.

"Don't you recognize the Starkhaven crest?" Varric asked, a tense edge in his voice.

"You told me to keep my eyes down."

"They've been all over town since we arrived," he grumbled and took hold of Hawke's arm. He spoke under his breath, "Sebastian's gathered a holy army to capture any who work in your name. Did you know that's what the mages are doing? They revere you."

"Me?" Hawke said, eyes wide. She almost laughed. "I didn't do anything, well, at least not since the Arishok."

"People don't know what really happened," Varric said, casting a side-glance towards the white and gold clad soldiers questioning someone across the market. "But they know you. And all the mages know your name. They remember you."

"And how do you know?"

"Please," Varric scoffed, and they escaped behind a market stall and down a back alley. "Remember who you're talking to."

"But the drawn out details, where'd my silver-tongued storyteller go?" Hawke said as they reached their destination. Wispy white clouds drifted in the cool sky, and the cobbles underfoot were parched dry as they stopped. Varric rapped on a door.

"I shall not disappoint, my dear," he chuckled, cracking a shoulder back. "One thing at a time."

Hawke crossed her arms and righted her posture as the door opened, staring down the copper-bearded dwarf with steely eyes that opened the door. She kept silent as the man led them in and bolted the door.

"We told you to come alone," he said, his voice mealy and broken.

"Garrett's here to make sure things stay bloodless, Nasar," Varric said, motioning at Hawke with glint in his eye. "He knows to keep his mouth shut."

"He better," Nasar replied, hitting a hidden panel and prompting a door to open into a concealed room. "They've almost completely abandoned their contract with the guild now. Some of the senior members are content to wait, but I'm with you, Bartrand. They need to be sent a message."

"Glad you feel the same," Varric chuckled, taking a chair at the table with the other dwarves while Hawke lingered back against the wall. She was a head taller than anyone in the room. "The Chantry's got the coin, they shouldn't be so quick to turn on their allies when things get tight."

A murmur of consent went around the table, and a grizzled dwarf leant forward to say, "Word is the Legendary Beards have been hijacking shipments in Antiva to smuggle here. We've put up with the Coterie a long time, there's no room for another lip to pay service to."

"Blighters can go back to Rivaini for all I care," Varric muttered.

"You're known for getting things done," Nasar said when the disquiet had settled down again. "And you've done right in Ostwick so far."  
>"Then let me take care of this little problem," Varric said with a bold laugh. "I have people who'd be perfect for the work – Garrett here, for example."<p>

Hawke grunted, scarce moving otherwise. Slowly her eyes roamed to a young, beardless dwarf with silver eyes. He had been staring at her the whole time, and her brow drew together in consternation as she returned the glare.

"That's a large amount of trust we're placing in you," the silver-eyed dwarf said and sat up, crossing his arms. "If your bodyguard helps me with something, we'll consider it a done deal."

"I'm not sure we've had the distinction of meeting," Varric said, arching his brow.

"Karo Rashnad," the dwarf replied, unmoved from his seat.

"I recognize the clan," Varric said, inclining his head.

"As you should," Karo replied, a low grumble in his throat as he sat up. "My family has been responsible for half the trade in Ostwick for two centuries. Garrett will help then?"

"I've got a couple others that would be perfect as well." Varric scarce glanced over his shoulder before he knocked a fist on the table and offered it to the man. "Count me in too."


	13. CH 13: Devil's in the Details

Hawke walked behind Varric as he chatted with Karo, with Anders and Bethany at her side. She kept her eyes on them, expression stony beneath her trimmed, dark beard. It was the middle of the night as he led them between the grain stores, and the air carried the threat of impending cold. The wide brick buildings blocked the three-quarter moon, but Karo seemed able to see well enough to lead them.

"The city guard are too busy with the unrest since the Teryn died - least the damned templars haven't stepped in," Karo muttered, glancing at Varric.

"Somehow I think after what happened in Kirkwall, they won't be too keen to throw in their lot with city politics again," Varric said with a chuckle.

"Here," Karo said and motioned nearby. "Catacombs. Best go through them."

"If it is your property, it seems to me we should be able to waltz through the front door," Hawke murmured in a low voice.

"The less attention we draw, the better," Karo replied, pausing to stare at Hawke as he pushed open the wide wooden door with his foot. "You aren't here to give your opinion."

"Don't worry," Varric said with a chuckle, and his voice took a hard edge. "He'll hold his tongue."

"Then I'm sure he'd be glad to quietly take the head," Karo said with cool calmness.

Hawke huffed a bit and marched forward into the darkened passage, snagging a plank from the door and ripping it free. Pausing inside, she tugged one of the flasks from her hip, and wrapping some loose cloth from her belt, she doused it. Striking a flint, the torch lit and she climbed down the ladder.

"Bloody humans," Varric murmured when Anders and Bethany had disappeared after Hawke.

"Why even work with them?" Karo asked as Varric started going down.

"Eh, they're cheap."

Hawke kept a quick pace that forced Varric and Karo to hurry, and it was only when she reached a branch in the darkness that she stopped to wait. She kept the torch aloft to let it shine down the aged brick passages.

Karo motioned to the right. "The other's flooded."

"Lovely," Hawke murmured, and led them forward into a wide room of tombs. "You know, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening."

"Garrett," Varric said through his teeth.

"Wha-" As Hawke turned back, her expression went slack, and she stumbled sideways, hand flying to the dart at her neck.

"You double-crossing blighter," Varric snarled and whipped Bianca off his back. He was caught off guard as Karo kicked him in the chest, and he stumbled back into Bethany.

"He's the Champion, I swear to you!" Karo called, drawing a dagger and backpedalling as Anders turned on him. He twitched as a bolt of lightning caught his shoulder, but broke into a run back down the passage, as the shadows came to life.

Hawke dropped the torch, grasping at her sword and dagger as she tried to regain her footing. She could see the movement around them, figures rising from what could have been tombs. Spinning on her heel, she met a flash of steel with her own enchanted weaponry, and huffed hard as she pushed the armoured attacker back.

"No!" Anders cried, and pulled at the air to fashion the Fade to his will. The hunched brick chamber was illuminated as more lightning leapt from man to man. They were outnumbered three to one.

"Hawke!" Varric cried, on his feet once more to crack a round of bolts into the darkness. The light was dying, the torch on the ground flickering and leaving just growing shadow and crackle of magic. "This way!"

"Mages! Take them down!" A man cried, and the room blossomed with the searing brightness of holy energy. Hawke staggered as her vision swam, moving without thought to deflect another riposte. They were hemming her in against the wall.

"Get them out!" Hawke cried, jerking her limbs again to fight the poison burning in her veins. Snatching a flask from her hip, she whipped it at the templars advancing upon Bethany, and the flush of fire and gas erupted to light the room as much as her sister's jolts of magic. Her voice took a frantic edge, "Varric, get out!"

Huffing as she stabbed through a gap beside a pauldron, Hawke spun and kicked another of her assailants. A rope caught her neck, and it was only with a flick of her wrist that she cut it, before stumbling sideways through the fire she'd set. The man beside her stopped mid-swing and sloughed to the ground.

"Is that how you fight for your Maker?" Hawke cried and started to cough. Spitting the foam from the edge of her mouth, she caught herself before she stumbled – but not before she took a pommel blow.

Anders clenched his fist, senses reeling as he tried to gather the mana to cast. There was sweat on his brow, sapped and sick from the all too familiar templar-granted sensation. A crackle of blue ascended his limbs, adding another light to the chamber when Varric snagged his wrist and disrupted the spell.

"Blondie," Varric hissed, pulling him with surprising strength. He pushed the man into Bethany, and the two gawked as he turned and shot another volley of bolts at the templars, before turning the crossbow on them. "Run!"

"No! No, I –" A bolt whizzed beside Anders' head, close enough to ruffle his hair, and he squeaked. "Have you gone insane?"

"The next one won't miss," Varric said, pressing them back further down the hall. The sounds of fighting echoed off the stone, and the light behind the dwarf was dying. "I know both of you can heal yourself just fine."

"What are you doing, Varric!" Bethany said, her knuckles white around her staff as she moved back from a bolt shot at her feet.

"We can't just abandon her!" Anders yelled, and his eyes lit with luminous power. "It is not enough to harm the mages, they will take any ally we –" He sharply yelled as a bolt clipped his arm and tore the cloth.

"When I make a promise to Hawke, I damned well keep it," Varric said as he snapped another set of bolts into Bianca. The next few shots got them moving down the passage past the fork.

Anders stumbled to a halt, glaring at Varric again as he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"To get us out," Bethany replied, and her expression slumped. She looked back to where the sounds of fighting had fallen to a hush. "She made you promise to keep us safe."

"To save you before her," Varric muttered, and nudged Anders with his crossbow to get them moving again. "So there you are."

"If you'd just let us stay and fight for her-" Anders turned on him again.

"You'd be under the templars foot!" Varric sighed and pointed Bianca at them. "Bianca and I don't like this anymore than you do, so just run!"

Bethany took Anders' good arm, and they ran back to the exit of the catacombs, only to find that the door had been barred.

"I'm getting too old for this," Varric muttered and slipped a dagger from his hip to jam it into the hinges. Levering his weight into it, the rotten wood splintered, and he climbed out to help Bethany back into the night.

"Stop," Anders said as they took to the streets, and Varric sunk with them back into an alcove. "We can't go there."

"What?"

"The Bitter End," Anders whispered and looked down the street. There was a haunted look in his eyes. "They know where we were staying."

"Shit," Varric said, and wiped a hand over his mouth.

"Let's keep moving," Bethany said, and they pulled up their hoods. There was the sound of raised voices from the adjacent street.

"She sneaks back into Kirkwall and everything's fine," Varric muttered. "But then dresses as a man in some foreign city and gets captured within a month. Does anyone else find that amusing?"

"It's a death sentence, so you'll excuse me if I don't laugh," Anders replied. "She wouldn't be in this if it weren't for me."

"Don't be so sure of that, Blondie," Varric said and patted his friend's arm. "Hawke gets pretty determined to piss off the wrong people."

"She's always been like that," Bethany said, before falling silent. When they'd made it another few blocks, she stopped and threw up her hands. "What are we going to do?

Anders closed his eyes and shook his head, "We have to go – we have to go after them now - how could I let you do this, Varric!"

"Calm down, we'll get her!" Varric said, and the weight of his years crept into his voice. "I swear, we won't just let this simmer."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Ander said, and leveraged his height over the dwarf. "The woman I love was just hauled off by templars!"

"She did it so they wouldn't get to us," Bethany quietly said.

"You think I don't know that?" Anders made a pained sound, before looking at Varric again. "Do you know what it's like in a Circle dungeon? I spent more time in one than I'd like to remember. They aren't kind." Anders twitched and staggered briefly, clenching his teeth as luminous, blue light crackled through him. Stragglers in the street stared at them. "We have to go after her. We can't – we must…"

Bethany grabbed his arm to help Varric pull him as they hurried further away. "Come on… Nolan and Aretria will know what to do. She knows the city."

"I let them take her…" Anders whispered and numbly followed. "I let this happen…"

"You can wallow in self pity all you want later, Blondie," Varric grumbled.

"We have to go to the tavern," Anders said with a start. His expression was pale, and he hardened his jaw. "We can't just leave his grace there."

Bethany put a hand over her mouth.

"Right," Varric said and motioned down the street. "Well you can have the pleasure of telling him where his lady went."

* * *

><p>Anders paced, scarce able to contain the edge of rage within. "It isn't enough to kill so many of us, to imprison us, to take who we are!"<p>

"Blondie," Varric said and lifted his hands in a lack of hostility. "Anders. Take a breath."

Closing his eyes, Anders jerked and clenched his hand into a fist. The crackle of light about his limbs ebbed away, but the whites of his eyes still glowed. "How can you just act like everything's alright?"

"Because one of us has to keep it together," Varric snapped, and looked up at the mage with equal fire in his eyes. His voice fell to a harsh whisper, "Would you rather you and Bethany be in the hands of the templars? Do you think Hawke would have let that happen – she would have killed herself stopping them!"

"I didn't ask her too!"

"Yeah well Bethany didn't either," Varric replied and half snorted. "Come on, you know her as well as I do – if not better. Hawke does what Hawke wants. It's just easier this way. Just be damned glad for her affection, and we'll do anything we need to find her."

"Anders," Aretria came out of the dorms and advanced across the room with Bethany at her side. Hawke's mabari followed close beside her. The handful of mages in the wings kept their distance, regarding him with cautious fear. "Bethany told me what happened – I am so sorry."

"Thank you," he said, swallowing his anger. "But apologies don't mean much. We need your help. I don't know what they want her for."

"One of our eyes spotted the templars taking a prisoner into the Circle, so we can be thankful for that much," Aretria replied.

"Thankful?" Anders scoffed and bridged a hand over his brow, before speaking with greater temperance. "Right... right."

"We cannot merely waltz in there and reclaim her," one of the men nearby said. He took a few steps back as his grace began to growl at him. "The last thing we need is the templars cracking down harder."

Bethany knelt down and wrapped her arms around the mabaris's neck. The hound was scarce fazed, and shifted his weight to situate himself between her and the other mages. "It's alright, he won't harm you."

"What about the dwarves?" Anders said, shrugging his tensed shoulders as he looked at Varric. "They're the ones that got us into this situation."

"Don't worry," Varric said and rubbed his eyes. "Making a house call is first on my list – right after you heal me."

"Heal you? You're the one that shot me!"

"Details, details," Varric replied with a sigh.


	14. CH 14: Made Your Bed

Hawke hung limply in their arms, trembling with pain as she coughed blood. Her legs dragged on the ground behind her, and the sound her armour made on the cobbles grated her senses. She saw the streets pass by and used the last of her strength to pick out landmarks that might be of use; a bawdy house – the Bearded Clam - brightly lit in the wee hours of the morning, a fountain of a griffon, the smell of cattle and sheep, and how long it had been since it all cut away into darkness. The torches on the wall flickered at regular intervals and made her eyes water.

"I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to fetch a healer," Hawke murmured through fat lips. Her head hung down and she looked at the roughhewn, stone floor as she heard the clink of keys. "I think I'm ruining your lovely tile with my blood."

"Shut it," the templar gripping her replied.

"But who else am I to speak with?" Hawke replied. She was soon deposited in the cell, and began to cough again as she shuddered on the ground. "We'll...be the best of friends... you'll see."

Hawke lay there as the templars locked her in and walked away, and she spat up a gob of blood as she listened to their steps grow distant. She fumbled with a pick in the sleeve of her greave, though her fingers were loath to respond. The gash up her arm had partially clotted in her clothing, and left the tendons frayed. She could feel the tightness in the old scar – a memento from the Arishok. Closing her eyes, she lay on the stone and tried to swallow the pain.

"Hello?"

"Changed your mind?" Hawke said, though her voice was muffled against the stone floor.

"Not a templar," the person replied.

"A mage then?" Hawke asked, slowly rolling onto her back.

"Yes," he replied. "Not much use here, though. Wards in the stone."

"Hawke," she murmured and shook her head. A zing of panic fluttered in her chest as her consciousness wavered.

"The Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke?"

"Something like that," she said, closing her eyes. She forced herself up to her knees and hung her head, putting her good hand on the ground to steady herself.

"Then it's no use," he said, a growing panic in his voice. "I heard you were in the city, but they caught you. You aren't going to free us."

"Right now I might be happy not to die," Hawke replied. "Thanks for the concern."

"I'm sorry," he said with haste. "I don't know how long I've been down here... I'm Ethan."

Hawke grit her teeth and finally succeeded in slipping the pick from her greave. She coughed wetly and listened for a moment before asking, "How often do they check on you, Ethan?"

"Meals, twice daily," he said and sighed miserably.

"And you don't count how many times they've come?" Hawke forced herself to her feet, unable to keep from making noise as she grunted in pain.

"I... no..."

"Do you like it down here?" she asked, putting her weight into the rusted bars of her cell and reaching around to fiddle with the lock.

"What kind of question is that?"

"An honest one," Hawke said, and smiled with satisfaction as the tumblers clicked. She pushed the door open with as little sound as possible and looked down the hall. There were a handful of cells, each separated by aged planks of wood. She hobbled to where she saw a pair of hands on the bars. "Well? You coming?"

Ethan's eyes went wide as he looked down the hall and said, "Maker, yes!"

"You'll help me in turn, then?" Hawke said, and suddenly clutched her chest as she coughed again. She wiped the blood from her lips and cursed before leaning into the bars and plying her trade on the lock. "Once we're free... I need you to do anything you can to stop the templars from capturing us. If you get me out of here, I'll protect you. I promise."

"Of course," Ethan replied in a hurry. He looked down the hall. "Wait, I hear the door."

"Bloody fuck," Hawke said, kneeling down with some difficulty to work the lock.

"No – no stop, they can't think I was trying to get out!"

"Of course not," Hawke replied with a scoff. She yanked off the lock and gripped the cell bars to hoist herself back up. "I was planning on kidnapping you. Terrible, the things I do to mages. Come on." When Ethan shrunk back, she hissed and limped a step closer. "Do I need to throw you over my shoulder? Don't think I won't."

"What in the Maker's name is she doing out of her cell?"

Hawke turned and met the templars advancing on her with a bloody smile, leaning against the bars as she said, "Keeping the poor mage at bay. They don't do well in cages, you know?"

"She killed five good men, Captain," a templar behind the Knight-Captain said. "Men with families."

Thumbing her nose, Hawke said under her breath, "Yes well, I have a family too. Funny thing about that."

"Are you going to come quie-" The Knight-Captain cut off his words as Hawke bolted at him, catching him off guard as she snagged the blade at his hip. With equal dexterity, he deflected the blow, the metal grating along his greave before he could twist Hawke's arm and throw her against the bars. "I suppose not."

Hawke laughed and wheezed, the sound becoming a pained cry as he further twisted her injured arm. Her voice was shrill as she said, "That's living up to the – the templar name! Good on you, Ser!"

"Here I had come to introduce myself and provide you with a poultice or two," the Knight Captain said. He jerked his head sideways to his men. "Did you even bother to search her? No. Of course not. Lock Ethan's cell." As he pulled Hawke off the bars, she crumpled on weak knees, and the man sighed, "Come on."

* * *

><p>"Let me handle this, okay Blondie?"<p>

"You can't expect me just to sit by and do nothing," Ander replied.

"No," Varric conceded, and took Anders by the arm. "But while trying to get myself killed all these years alongside you and Hawke, I did learn that you're a patient man. You know the value of a good plan – of waiting for the right moment."

"It was different," Anders said, and reluctantly took the flask Varric offered him. He drank half of it in one go before pressing it back into the dwarf's hands. "That your plan? Get me drunk?"

Varric chuckled and said, "Somehow I don't think you need me for that."

"Hah."

"Trust me," Varric said, and shrugged Bianca on his shoulders. "I'll go find what's needed. The guild rotates their meet-ups, and it's going to take more than a little scratching to find out where they've hid themselves."

"Right," Anders said, and looked back vacantly across the chamber.

"Course I'm right," Varric said, though his smile was pained. "We'll get her."

Anders wandered back across the underground lair as Varric disappeared topside. It was a quiet mid-day, leaving much of the space vacant. Many of the mages were members of the Circle, and concealing their participation necessitated the appropriate daytime dedication. He slumped down against the far wall, closing his eyes.

It was a familiar smell, the grime and humidity. The murmur of others nearby. All that was missing was the sting of lye and undertone of old blood. Anders opened his eyes when someone moved his arm.

"Oh," Anders said, lifting his hand to allow the mabari closer. "I... I'm sorry, you know. I didn't want to leave her."

The hound huffed a reply and slopped a lick across the back of Anders' hand before settling with his head in the man's lap.

"Ah, thanks," Anders replied, and wiped his hand off on his shirt. He began to toy with the mabari's ears, rubbing them to the tip and ruffling over his head. The dog softly whined and let his weight sink into Anders' lap. "Yeah. Me too."

Anders woke up a few hours later as the dog stirred, and he cringed and stiffly tried move. He looked up to see Varric waving his grace off and marching over.

"Glad to see you got some rest," Varric said, and snagged Anders' hand to pull him up. There was a vicious glint in his eye. "Found some friends of ours."

* * *

><p>"Just keep your head down," Varric murmured to Bethany, cradling Bianca as they watched the door in the corner of the courtyard.<p>

"You shouldn't have come," Anders said, and tightened his grip on the collar of Hawke's mabari at his side.

"That's cute that you think you could have stopped me," Bethany replied. "She's the only family I have." When the hound huffed, she added, "We have."

"There," Varric said as the door swung open. Waiting until the men came into view, Anders stood to cast, and a miasmic glyph blossomed on the ground. They hurried from the shadows, as a dark-skinned dwarf slumped down. A second staggered, trying to orientate himself, when Varric cracked off a shot and knocked the man down.

"That should -" Varric's words cut away as Anders clenched his hand into an crackling fist, and when the mage released it, the lightning arced across the fallen dwarves and electrified the doorway. Screams could be heard down the hall as his grace darted into the fray. " - do it..."

"Come on," Anders said, stepping over the bodies to lead into the entryway of the apartment with the mabari at his side. Varric and Bethany exchanged glances and hurried after him. Once inside, they were already met with the hound shaking a dwarf on the ground, and bits of rock coated Anders' arms. A crossbow bolt glanced the mage's arm, only to be met with an eruption of ice that cut off the dwarf's scream.

"Slow down," Varric said under his breath, and was met with Anders' luminous gaze.

"Perhaps you merely need to keep up," Anders replied, and turned away before Varric could reply. Bethany hurried after, and the snarling snaps of their enraged mabari echoed off the stone. Flashes of light and more screams filled the hall as she emerged alongside Varric to where Anders was cutting down the guards.

Shaking his head, Varric strode to kick open the door they were protecting, and the clutch of dwarves inside shrunk back into the larder. He snagged the first one he saw and dragged him out, while behind him Anders spun to sink the bladed end of his staff into a different fallen dwarf.

"Wh-who do you think are?" the grey-bearded dwarf stammered as he was thrown down. When he opened his mouth to talk again, Varric fired a bolt that pinned his hand to the ground, and he screeched and fell prostrate, clutching his wrist.

"You know perfectly well who we are," Anders said as he spun on the bleeding man. Black tendrils of glowing miasma coiled up his limbs, dissipating along with the fractures of blue across his face. His voice remained broken and multi-octaved with his possession, "Where is the one called Karo?"

When the clutch of dwarves in the larder moved, Bethany shot out a hand, and a burst of fire lit in the doorway, pinning them into the confined space.

"Don't kill me!" the man grovelled, stuck to the ground. "Ancestors protect me!"

"Oh, shut your hole, Pyrran," Varric grumbled and smacked the man with the back end of Bianca to keep him down. The older dwarf gurgled and stayed on the ground as Varric turned, the gears of his beloved clicking as he looked across the flames into the larder. "Now, which one of you is going to talk about selling us out to the Chantry?"

"You don't know what they'll do," one of the merchants said, his face obscured by the heat of the fire. "What Karo will do!"

"The Champion blew up the Chantry and killed all the templars in Kirkwall when they wouldn't give her what she wanted," Varric said and propped Bianca on his hip. "How do you think she'll treat you when she gets out?"

"If she gets out," Pyrran said from his place on the floor. He chanced to look up from his bloodied, bolted hand.

"Oh I guarantee she'll get out, messere, she's stubborn like that," Varric darkly chuckled. "It might take a lot of striking flint to start a fire, but once it's burning, she's got quite the temper. You might of also noticed she's a bit of a mage sympathizer."

"You won't like me when I'm angry either," Anders said, and kicked the bolt holding the man's hand. Pyrran cried out, and Anders squatted down. "You're going to give us everything we want – or I make sure you don't die for a long time. I'm quite the capable healer, you know –"

"Anders!" Bethany said, turning from where she kept the fire burning.

Scarce heeding his name as he stood, Anders opened the palm of his hand and ice crept up the man's legs. Pyrran blubbered again, finally wrenching the bolt free from the wooden floor. Anders sent a blackened mist across the fire and the dwarves writhed, clutching their heads in agony and horror.

"Blondie, let me handle this," Varric hissed, casting a stern glance at the mage.

"No!" Anders snapped, and he clenched his hand into a fist to dissipate the blue fire that threatened. He didn't look at them as he stepped towards the larder. "No more waiting."


	15. CH 15: In the Maker's Hands

After the first escape, the Knight-Captain had Hawke stripped down to a tunic and thrown back in the cell with nothing to her name. When she caught a rat and broke its leg for the femur to pick the lock and escape again, they bound her hands. When she used the fat from the kitchen scraps to grease herself up and slip out through the bars, they moved her down two cells – it was smaller, and the bars were tighter – and posted a guard around the clock.

Sitting in the back corner, Hawke closed her eyes and crossed her legs, huddling her body into a ball in the damp, cool air. The templars were murmuring outside the cells. When she opened her eyes, she saw Ethan looking at her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

"Happy as a fly in shit," Hawke replied and falsely smiled. She sucked on her bottom lip before she said, "But at least we've got you some company now, how bad can it be?" She hesitated before murmuring, "Maybe Varric was right about that one..."

"What?"

Hawke ignored him as she scooted on the ground. "So! I simply cannot be worth all of this trouble. Someone in their right mind would have killed me outright."

"Are you crazy?" Ethan hissed, and sat down as the templar approached.

"On good days," Hawke replied, and rocked backward to kip-up onto her feet. She stumbled though and shuddered when she caught herself on the wall. Cursing, she stood upright and cradled her injured arm to her body, and pulled her bound hands to her chest as she leant against the bars. She called down the hall, "There has to be a reason. Don't I deserve to know?"

"You don't deserve much at all," the helmeted templar replied. "So be quiet."

Hawke sighed and pressed her cheek against the sullied metal. "You certainly have a lot of mages in the Free Marches – is it something in the water? What's with Ferelden only needing one Circle?"

"Shut your mouth," the second templar replied. He was without a helm, and his square jaw bore a beard much like the one that had worn off Hawke's own chin.

"I need to breath, you know," Hawke said, stretching her shoulders back as he advanced. "So I doubt that's happening."

The templar snatched her through the bars and held her against them as he stared at her. "My sister was in Kirkwall during the explosion – she got hit by the rubble, you know that? She's scarred for life."

Hawke tested his grip on her, cheek smushed to the bar as she said, "I think the take-away lesson is, do not look directly at the explosion."

"You bitch," the templar spat, and jerked his arm to smash her into the bars.

Hawke sputtered in a self-depreciating laugh, before spitting the blood from her mouth. "Thank you, I really needed that."

"Gwen was there?" The other templar said from where he stood. "I didn't know that."

"She lost so much blood," the templar clutching Hawke replied, and he pulled her close against the bars to meet her face to face. "She almost died!"

"And I bet a mage saved her life," Hawke murmured and wriggled in his grasp. "Did you ever ask her that?"

The templar bristled and jerked her into the bars again, thrashing her but unable to properly hit her. Pinning her against the cell, the man scarce got a hit off.

"Just proving my point," Hawke wheezed and narrowed her eyes, her nose off kilter and streaming blood. "Did she teach you how to hit like a girl, too?"

"Maleficar's whore," he hissed and rattled Hawke against the bars again before letting her go.

"Want a minute with her? She's in no condition to fight back," the second templar offered.

"Just gag her, for Andraste's sake!"

"It's easier, isn't it," Hawke said as she crumpled down to her knees. "Easier than listening. Than thinking."

"I need to clear my head," the templar croaked, staring at her before marching down the dungeon hall. "I'll find Bower to replace me."

When the knight had ascended the stairs, Ethan crept forward in his cage and whispered, "What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?"

Hawke closed her eyes, lying on the ground as she squeezed the pilfered belt clasp in her hand. She rolled onto her side, opening her swollen eyes to look at him as she murmured, "It passes the time."

* * *

><p>Anders stalked across the room, with Bethany and Varric giving him a wide berth. His grace trotted with hunched shoulders and a bloodied maw, eyes unfocused as they made it to the other side of the underground chamber. Another day tracking the merchants had brought more blood, and time blurred together.<p>

"How could you let him do that?" Bethany asked under her breath, moving to slump into a worn wooden chair.

"Excuse me for not getting in the way of an abomination on a rampage, Sunshine," Varric replied with a strained smile. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, before looking to where Anders paced. "Tomorrow."

"Do you think they'll keep their word?"

The creases in Varric's features deepened as he said, "For their sake, I hope so." He sighed and sat beside Bethany. "Where is everyone?"

"They need to be there for morning counts," Bethany said, toying with a tassel on her cloak. She wrapped it around her hugged it up to her neck, watching Anders finally sink against the wall and accept the mabari's head in his lap. "At the Circle."

"They're Circle mages?"

"You didn't realize that?" Bethany said, meeting Varric's gaze. "That's how they know about Marian. They're risking so much associating with us."

"I suppose," Varric replied, harrumphing as he set Bianca down and inspected the bridle. "That's Hawke for you though. People rally around her."

"They always have," Bethany said and her eyes dropped down. "Never done her much good in the end."

"Maybe not," Varric said with a chuckle, "but you can't deny, it's her element."

"Yes," Bethany said without further comment.

"We've gotten out of worse," Varric said under his breath, leaning forward to take Bethany's hand. "Besides, you've got me on your side."

"I guess it's just that I'm supposed to be the one locked in the Circle," Bethany said and looked down at her hands.

The doorway connected to the catacombs burst open, and Aretria ran in on the heels of a templar. Anders was on his feet in an instance, staff at the ready. When Bethany put a hand on her arm, they met the senior enchanter.

"What is he doing here? I thought we could trust you!" Anders said, and motioned at the templar with the head of his staff.

"I'm on your side," the templar replied and narrowed his eyes.

"Ser Bower had a shift with Hawke a few days back," Aretria said, and reached for Bethany. She was out of breath and shook her head. "Your sister…"

"What have you done to her?" Anders growled and lurched at Ser Bower, only to have Varric snag one his arms and pull him back.

"I've done all I can to keep the other templars from beating her to death," Ser Bower snapped in reply, and his scalemail clanked as he shifted uncomfortably. He pulled of his helm and said, "She sure hasn't been making it easy."

"Maker's breath, Marian," Bethany said and put her hands over her mouth.

Varric tried to stretch between them as he looked up, "Surely you didn't come down here just to pepper us with pleasantries about Hawke's treatment."

"No," Aretria said, and gathered her greying black hair away from the paper fine wrinkles about her eyes. She blinked lengthily before saying, "They're taking her to Aeonar."

"No!" Bethany cried out and cringed into herself. Varric steeled an arm around her waist. "They can't."

"They won't," Anders said, unable to conceal the waver in his voice. His knuckles had gone white around his staff. "There's no question then, we act."

"You don't understand, the contingent arrived last night – she's being transported out of Ostwick at sundown to be shipped to Ferelden as soon as possible," Ser Bower said. Tensing his shoulders, he smoothed back his ruddy red hair.

"Then you help us," Anders said, meeting the templar eye to eye. "You said you were one of us, this is your chance."

"I cannot stop them all," Ser Bower replied, a waver in his thick accent. He ran a hand over his beard and moustache, the red hair peppered grey. "I have duties."

"Bullshit," Anders said, and Varric grabbed him again. "I don't have to know you to see you're all just talk!"

"Anders!" Varric snapped, and jerked the mage back. "Down boy!"

His grace roused nearby, a growl in his throat as he came up to Anders' leg.

"You're either going to help me free Hawke, or I don't see the point of this anymore," Anders said, taking a step back and bumping into the mabari as he bowed his head into his hand. There was the tingle of magical energy in the air, but his voice lost its vigour. "There is no point without her."

"Just take a breath or something," Varric said and swallowed any biting reply. He sighed with fatigue. "Do you have any friends willing to help us?"

"A few," Ser Bower slowly said, exchanging glances with Aretria as she touched his arm. "There has been a lot of fear building with what orders come from the Divine."

"What do you mean?" Bethany asked.

"There's been a riot in Cumberland – the Divine's army was there," Aretria said, clasping her hands together. "The First Enchanter called us in to tell us before breakfast today. A large contingent of mages escaped."

"The Knight Commander is trying to keep it hushed, but…" Ser Bower sighed and continued, "You cannot hide such news. Andraste guide us, I do not know what will happen to the order. There is already… much unrest. Desertion – and greater threats for disloyalty."

"Damn it," Varric muttered.

Anders bristled and kept his eyes closed as he ran a hand over his grace's head. The hound bumped his leg. "Then we use it. We use anything. We get the dwarves, and any mages we can. We assault the templars when they leave the city."

* * *

><p>The dark cells were cold, and an intermittent wind blew through the aging grout between the uneven stone walls of the Circle dungeon. The moisture on the walls might as well have been ice and the air smelled of snow. Hawke grit her teeth, unable to keep the twitch of cold from her limbs. She sat slouched against the wall, pressing her mutilated left arm against the stone as the templar guard disappeared up the stairs.<p>

"At least the cold makes things hurt less," Hawke said, her voice rasping. She licked her lips, tongue passing over the scabs there.

"I suppose," Ethan replied.

Hawke's voice trembled with her shivering as she said, "D-do you know how long it's been since I've been in any sort of pain?"

"Oh? Feeling better already?" Ethan asked from where he sat in his cell, reading by candlelight.

"A drink might help." Looking at the ground, Hawke dragged the bit of metal in her hand over the stone, wearing it down more. "Why won't you tell me wh-what you did?"

There was a moment of silence, leaving just the soft scrape of the metal on stone and the drip of moisture and wind. Ethan fiddled with the gilded edges of the book before he said, "It doesn't matter much now."

"Do you know I couldn't tell you all the terrible things I've done? Not if you asked me to, not on my life," Hawke murmured. There was a shudder of phlegm in her lungs, and she cleared her throat. "Mind you, I probably don't remember a lot of them. He never cared what I... No, he did. I probably owed him better."  
>"The apostate, Anders?"<p>

"Yes," Hawke said with a brief laugh. She turned her head up, looking at the curved stone ceiling. "You even know his name."

"Everyone does," Ethan replied, before closing his book. He picked up the candle and moved his chair to the bars, so the light would stretch down the hall. "I was copying his manifesto. Distributing it. We were organizing."

"Really?" Hawke groaned as she moved, glaring down at her arm as pain jolted up it. She cringed and sat up, tilting her face towards the bars to escape the weeping smell of the aging wound. "You're kidding me. And they act like it's some secret. With Aretria?"

Ethan leaned back in the chair, tucking his robes around himself for warmth. "They would have found her out."  
>"You are a peculiar man," Hawke said, closing her eyes and shivering again. She spoke quickly to keep her words clear. "Where did that backbone go? You seem so frightened, not some revolutionary..."<p>

"Times change," Ethan mumbled into his chest.

"They need you," Hawke replied, looking to where his voice came from. "H-he needs you - since I will most likely die down here."

"They won't –" Ethan's words cut off as the door opened. He sat back and cupped a hand around the flame of his candle. The lamp the lead templar bore lit the passage, and the Knight-Captain advanced to Hawke's cell with a retinue in tow.

"Didn't think I would have the p-pleasure of seeing you again," Hawke said, looking up at the man through blackened eyes. "Come for some fun too?"

"Gag her, Bower," the Knight-Captain ordered as he unlocked Hawke's cell.

"Not one for vocal antics?" Hawke said, and she couldn't keep the huff of pain as another templar joined Bower to pick her up. Her voice grew smaller, "Please – please it's not heal-" The words cut away into the leather strap, and she groaned as they hoisted her.

"What are you doing?" Ethan pressed into the corner of his cell, his voice rising in pitch. "Where are you taking her?"

The Knight-Captain motioned down the hall, and they dragged Hawke away, her pained protests muffled into the leather. Her cries rapidly bubbled, half shivered and agonized. As they disappeared up the stairs, the Knight-Captain stopped and patted Ethan's hand on the bars as he offered a strained smile. "Let's just say the Champion's going home."

Hawke screwed her eyes shut in the light and dug her teeth into the leather, unable to keep from jerking involuntarily at the contrast of cold and pain. She strained to see and became aware of a pair of mages following them.

"Let us heal her, Luther," the older man said, keeping pace across the polished floor. "There is no use bringing her all that way only to have her die."

"She has rebuked any of my efforts to provide assistance," Knight-Captain Luther replied, keeping his eyes upon Hawke as the templars led her. "She's survived this long. I imagine her stubborn nature will sustain her."

"Is this how you want people to see the Chantry?" Aretria said from where she followed at the First Enchanter's side. "That this is how they treat their prisoners?"

"You have no place here, Aretria," Luther sighed, hesitating as they made it to the wide, barred doors of the Circle. "The Champion is no longer a concern of either of yours. It would be wise to put her presence here from your mind."

"I-" Aretria clipped her reply as the First Enchanter touched her arm. She frowned as the doors opened, and Hawke was hauled out of sight.

"We tried our best," the First Enchanter said. "She is in the Maker's hands."

"That's what I'm worried about," Aretria replied, and turned on her heel to run back through the foyer.


	16. CH 16: Over the Meadow

Beyond the city gates, the wind whipped over the hills with little mercy. The skies had darkened through the day and brought freezing rain as a tumultuous ally to the winds. The cart one of the dwarves led slogged on the muddy roads, with Anders, Bethany and Varric were cloaked alongside them.

"We can't lose sight of them," Anders said. There was frost clinging to the scrawny stubble that roughened his chin. His grace trotted with him, unfazed by the weather. "Come on."

"This is as fast as dwarves go, Blondie," Varric muttered, trying to keep pace with the lanky mage.

"They're there," grumbled the dwarf merchant they marched with. Though the back end of the cart was stacked with barrels, a cache of five dwarves nestled beneath the canvas that draped over the rest of it.

Bethany slipped on the road and Varric caught her arm. "I can still see the last pair of guards."

"You're even Ferelden, Bethany," Anders said and strode ahead of them, worn boots slopping through the half wet and frozen road. "Where are your winter legs?"

"Must have left them behind," she replied, watching him before checking up the road. The disguised templar caravan descended over a hillcrest into a valley.

"I'm not designed for this," Varric muttered, hanging back near Bethany as she walked. "Look, we have to wait for the ambush anyway."

"I know," Anders replied, his voice raw. His eyes kept on the horizon as he ran his hands under his hood, tucking away his brown-dyed hair from the whipping wind and sleet.

"Bower is with her," Bethany said, though the wind ablated the words.

"That's not a comfort," Anders called back without looking.

"They're not all bad. You know that," Bethany said, slowing to yank her foot out of the muck. Varric gave her a helpful push. "They're like us - people who want normal lives."

"For themselves," Anders said, and he went faster. The mabari easily kept up. His next words went unheard. "Not us. I'm sure Orsino thought the very same."

Further down the winding road, a troupe of armoured templars marched alongside the barred cart within which Hawke was restrained. Their heads drooped in the inclement weather, oilskin cloaks heavy with slush and mud, boots cold and soaked through. It was only the man who drove the horses that kept his eyes into the wind and on the road.

Hawke stared at the two men from where she was slouched deep in the cart, jostling the leather that bit across her mouth. They sat outside the confined cell, view obscured by rusted, worn bars and wood. She shivered despite the heavy cloak they'd given her, and there was the flush of a fever was on her cheeks. One of the men kept glancing at her, and she narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth on the gag.

"I don't feel right about this," he said, looking at his hands.

"You don't have to, Bower. It's the Divine's work." the other guard replied, shifting to stretch out a leg. His under-suit of ringmail clattered, and he looked at Hawke. "She's lucky to be alive. I wouldn't have kept her."

"Mind your tongue," Bower said, his words clipped. He huffed and rubbed the frost out of his beard, his breath a visible cloud. "If there is no room for forgiveness in your heart, how shall we ever earn it from the Maker?"

The other templar offered no reply, turning to hang his legs off the back of the cart as it jolted and slipped on the wet road. He began to chat with one of the other knights marching in the wind. The daylight had almost faded when an arrow struck through the neck of the man he was talking to. With a jolt, he leapt off the cart as the alarm was raised.

"Should have expected this," he hissed, before turning to Bower. "Stay with her!"

Hawke struggled to sit up, and flecks of ice fell off her chains. Her eyes widened as Bower came closer to the bars, and she tensed against the ground.

" I'm here to -" His words cut of as Hawke's foot connected with his jaw, and he spat blood and floundered backwards. From outside the clatter of steel and the cries of battle grew louder. About to speak again, Bower's words were lost as he slipped and fell off the back of the cart.

The lanterns on the cart swayed, and one crashed to the ground as the dwarven mercenaries waylaid the templar patrol. The knights were slow in their cold armour, compared with the stout, quick movements of the leather-bound dwarves. The oil from the broken lantern caught the backside of the horses, and one reared.

With a snarl of teeth and a crackle of light, Anders brought down the heavens and his grace leapt upon one of the templars, jaw a vice upon the man's sword arm. He ran towards the cart, a protective glyph blossoming at his feet. "Marian!"

"Mages!" One of the templars cried, and as he clasped his hands together, a bolt hit his neck and he screamed, the fount of blood dark. He crumpled to his knees, and Anders drew a dagger and stabbed up into his helm from behind. A blossoming burst of white light followed, and Anders staggered back, clutching his chest and gasping for air. In that moment, his limbs lit, and Justice took hold, fire leaping from his hands.

"Anders, the cart!" Bethany struggled to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose as she ran towards it. The horses reared again, the fire from the broken lantern illuminating the front of the cart - where the driver had abandoned his seat to fight. With a thwick of tensile release, the reigns snapped, letting one of the frightened mares escape. Without a partner to hold it back, the other horse whinnied and shot off into the dark.

The group of templars surrounding Anders crumpled to the ground as he completed the spell, and his attention snapped to Bethany, seeking her with luminous eyes. The swaying glow of the cart's last lantern was disappearing over the hills.

"They must all pay!" Anders' voice cracked as he stalked away from the unconscious knights. One of the dwarves kicked his opponent to the ground, impaling him before moving on. "They cannot find us!"

Her hands aglow, Bethany snagged the reigns of the freed horse, pulling its head down to her face and murmuring words of assurance. Grabbing hold of its mane, she planted a hand on its back and hoisted herself up. "Come on!" She reached down to snag Anders' arm.

"What?" he shook his head, and eyes clearing as he realized her intent. Taking her arm again, he heaved up behind her on the horse.

"We've got to get her before they do," Bethany said, huffing in the cold.

"Go!" Varric said, shaking his head as he turned Bianca on one of the templars. When he'd shot the knight down, he advanced forward, muttering under his breath, "A Ferelden that knows how to ride? Now I have seen everything."

The sleet was unrelenting as Bethany dug in her heels and jerked the horse's reins. It huffed and took off down the muddy road, and Anders had to grip Bethany's waist to keep from falling. There was still the faint glimmer of light in the distance, but when the road veered around a copse of trees, she pulled up on the reins and stopped.

"What is - how do you know how to do this?" Anders huffed, wiping the rain from his eyes.

"Not raised in a Circle or city," Bethany replied, scanning the ground as the horse trotted nervously. She followed the cart tracks, and the deep lines scored into the earth and led through the trees. "Do you see any light?"

"No," Anders replied, choking on his words. "I can't see a thing."

Bethany bit her lips closed and urged the horse into the trees, eyes on the ground as she ducked to avoid a branch. The horse huffed, skirted and slowed and she made a frustrated sound, but eventually they were trotting through the trees.

"There!" Anders called out, and as Bethany rode closer, the cart came into view. It was trapped in the trees, splintered and toppled, and the other horse whinnied and bucked in its tack. As soon as she slowed enough, Anders all but fell off the horse, scrambling in the slick underbrush to run to the cart.

"Marian! Marian, are you in there!" Anders slipped again, and he summoned a magelight as he reached the cart and pried away the splintered planks.

Hawke twisted her head as she saw him, caught at an awkward angle in the belly of the broken cell. Anders swore as he tried to get in more, before jabbing his dagger in one of the joists and cracking it away. On his knees in the small space beside her, he all but fell on her, tugging away the gag biting her mouth and putting his own lips in its place.

Shuddering with cold and relief, Hawke shook her head and tears welled in her eyes as she laughed, "You came for me."

"Of course we did," Anders said, putting his hand on her cheek. "Though I won't deny, I always imagined it would be you saving me from the Chantry, not the other way around." He kissed her again, furrowing his brow. "I couldn't leave you holding the bag."

"Better me than you," Hawke said, her words broken by her shivering.

"Never," Anders said, the word thickened. "Wait, what is this? The Champion of Kirkwall crying?"

"Always," Hawke replied, closing her eyes and turning her face into his hand. "And it's because of my state. D-dreadful that you need see me like this." Sniffing in sharply, she opened her eyes again and laughed before grimacing when he tried to move her. "Shut up and heal me, mage."

Anders drew the light into the space of the broken cart, partially shielded from the rain. The bluish light cast shadows in his features. "What did they do to you?" He lifted the chains and called back, "Bethany - get Varric!"

"Nothing," Hawke murmured. "That's the problem."

"This can't all be from the fight," Anders put a hand over her head as he moved the chains restraining her, and fine fractures of blue light lit up his neck. His voice trembled. "What did they do to you? Those bastards will pay!"

"Nothing you can't fix," Hawke said, looking up to his eyes. She licked the reddened edges of her pale lips and tried to move her hands. "Trust me? And heal me... and maybe get me somewhere warm. With something to eat."

"Demanding as ever," Anders said, closing his eyes and rousing his magic. As the ephemeral wisps touched her skin, he shuddered. "They... they didn't do a thing! They kept you all this time. I can't just heal you, love. "

"Get me a drink then?" she replied, slumping back at an odd angle. "And kiss me again to show me I'm not in the Fade?"

Anders put his warm hand on her cheek, murmuring a quiet spell to heat the air around them before he asked, "I don't kiss you in the Fade?"

"Maybe?" Hawke replied, her eyes half lidded. "I don't know... Justice didn't seem all that interested before. Unless he-"

Cutting off her rambling with a kiss, Anders put his hand over Hawke's, and she gripped his fingers tight. His voice trembled as they touched foreheads and he whispered, "I'm so sorry, my love. This is because of me."

"Shut up," Hawke replied, and tightened her grip. "Just shut up."

Anders exhaled roughly as Hawke turned her head to kiss his nose. He sniffed in and took off his cloak, draping it over her. "It's your arm."

"I noticed," she said, and closed her eyes. Her head lolled slightly, and clenched her teeth as she trembled.

"Marian – Marian, love, look at me," Anders hurriedly said, and the magelight drifted closer as he drew back her eyelids to inspect her eyes. "You're feverish."

"Where's Varric?"

"Killing templars, I imagine," Anders replied, and pressed his lips to her forehead. She softly sighed, and it was a few minutes before he heard the horse and manoeuvred out of the crumpled cart.

"Bower ran off with the Knight Captain," Bethany said, out of breath. She held the horse and helped Varric down.

"I'm fine, Sunshine," Varric grumbled. "Hopefully he's worth his salt and will make sure the trail goes cold while we escape with our tails between our legs."

"She's in no condition to travel," Anders said, motioning at the cart. His eyes lingered there, where his spellwisp glowed. "We have to go back in the morning. I… I need to fix her."

"Right, because walking back into a city where we've pissed off the Chantry and the Merchant's Guild is the brightest idea," Varric said, throwing his hands up. "Why didn't I think of that? Hawke?"

"She's chained in," Anders said, and before he could ask Varric replied.

"Hence needing my talents, of course," he said with a grim grin and ducked into the space. "So keen on getting us killed."

"You know it," Hawke murmured, shivering heavily. She licked her blued lips. "We do, you know. Aretria needs us."

"If nothing else, we'll scare them away with your smell," Varric murmured as he squatted and picked the locks on her restraints. There was a satisfying click. "Put your arm around me, beautiful."

"You can't carry me, Varric," Hawke croaked, but put her arm around him none the less.

"Not carrying," Varric grunted as she pulled herself up. "Maker's morning breath, Hawke, what died on you?"

"I might smell, but at least that will wash away," Hawke murmured, her voice rising in pitch as she cringed in pain. "Your ugly mug won't."

"She's fine," Varric muttered as he helped her out. Bethany threw a cloak around her, and Hawke moved into her arms.

"About time you saved me," Hawke whispered into her hair. "After all these years, it was your turn."

A handful of dwarves appeared from uproad, their weapons bloody and their clothing soaked.

"Oh sister," Bethany said, combing her sister's hair back with her fingers. She held Hawke close. "There's no way we'll make it in the dark."

"She's right," one of the dwarfs said, pointing into the darkness. We have a cache nearby – we'll make camp till first light."


	17. CH 17: Winter's Grasp

Hawke sat propped against her mabari by the fire, as Anders and Bethany hunted for herbs in the wee hours of the morning. Her cheeks were sunken and her form emaciated, but there was a light in her eyes. "Varric, my dearest, you could not have written it better yourself."

"Maybe I did?" Varric chuckled.

As her expression softened, Hawke looked at him and smiled. Her hound licked the hand of her injured arm as she murmured, "Do you notice that no one ever talks about how Meredith got possessed and went insane? It's always, Hawke did this, Hawke blew up that."

Anders and Bethany appeared at the edge of camp. Taking the water from the fire, Varric poured it into a tin cup to let the contents brew. "You did do and blow up a lot of things."  
>"That may be the case, but what about my kitten and orphan charity work?" Hawke smiled thinly up at Anders as he sat by her.<p>

"I don't think that ever made it into the stories," Varric said with a grin.

"A pity that," Hawke said and sighed. She grit her mouth closed as Anders moved her arm.

"What are you going on about?" he asked. "Sorry, love…" Anders took the cup from Varric and crushed another herb into it. Swirling the liquid, he gave it to Hawke and kept his eyes down. "That will knock you out and ease the pain. I… I thought it'd be best."

Hawke looked it. "It'll fix it?"

"Do you want the truth?" When Hawke looked up to him, Anders took her hand. "I won't know until I've removed all the damaged tissue. But you'll get better afterwards. You won't if I don't do anything."

"Yes, messere," Hawke replied, and quaffed the concoction. She put her good hand over the back of her mouth as she gagged. "You know how helpful it is by how bad … it… tas.."

Anders steeled his arm around her as Hawke slumped, and his grace stirred with a low rumble of concern. "Just stay there. You keep her up and protect her, mm?"

The hound slipped his head under Hawke's arm and into her lap as Anders eased her back, and unfurled the slender blade from his belt.

* * *

><p>The dagger slipped from Hawke's grasp, and she snagged it from the ground and kept walking as her mabari skittered around. They were tracking through the hills towards Ostwick, following the dwarves through less obvious routes. Biting her jaw shut, she tried to grip the dagger again, but her fingers wouldn't respond, and the blade tumbled awkwardly. His grace whimpered as it clattered on a stone, and Varric glanced at her as she grabbed it with her right hand and stabbed it into its sheath.<p>

"How's the arm?" Varric asked under his breath.

"A little like your dick," Hawke replied without looking at him. "Fairly useless."

Varric let go a hearty laugh and put a hand on the small of her back. "Well. You seem to be making a fine recovery to me. Ass."

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"See? You'll be fine," Varric said and shook his head.

"Missed you too," Hawke murmured.

Varric doubled his pace to catch up with Bethany, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. Anders' gaze lingered on Hawke, but she just kept walking with her eyes unfocused on the hound that led them.

"I'm sorry," Anders said, watching the ground. "I had to cut out more tissue than I thought – and I can't heal what isn't there. It would have only gotten worse. It was already untreated for far too long."

"I know," Hawke replied without looking at him. Her cheeks were gaunt, skin sallow, and she was covered in grime, clad in one of the fallen templars leather armour. "You did all you could."

"I know it wasn't enough."

Shoulders tensing, Hawke's expression contorted briefly before she swallowed it and smiled. It was obviously forced. "You know me – it's never enough no matter what we're talking about."

"That isn't what I meant," Anders said, and reached for her hand as he frowned.

"No, of course it isn't." Hawke pulled her arm away and grimaced, unable to manoeuvre it properly. She pinned the weak limb beneath a strap on the armour. "You were making it about you. I realize most of this is, but excuse me if I'm not willing to pander to your self pity right now."

Anders recoiled and his pace faltered. The mabari kept up with Hawke, glancing at her and back to him. "I – Marian, I didn't mean –"

"I know," Hawke snapped, and when she stopped, his grace whimpered. Her sigh was visible in the cold air. Closing her eyes, her expression sagged and she put her good hand on the dog before glancing to Anders. "I know. You never mean it. Let… let's just get back to the city."

Swallowing his reply, Anders kept his eyes on Hawke as she turned and kept walking. Underfoot the ice and grasses crunched, and he followed them in silence.

* * *

><p>They made it into Ostwick with only a minor altercation, but it was obvious the templars were on high alert. Winding through the curfew imposed streets after midnight, they avoided patrols as best they could. As they skirted the main square, the reason for the quiet became apparent – the sound of singing and laughter echoed down the streets from warm hearths and feast-filled tables. The eaves were donned with dried wreaths and ribbons, and there were colourful candles in the window.<p>

Hawke lingered in the shadows, and though their dwarven allies continued on, her friends stopped. His grace looked back at her with concern in his eyes.

"Are you alright, sister?"

"It's Feast Day, isn't it?" Head heavy, Hawke stood and listened for a time before saying, "Do you remember the year in Highever? When father was working for the arl?"

Bethany's breath was in the air as she looked down. "Yes. I don't think I'd ever seen so much food in my life."

"It felt normal," Hawke whispered, and then smiled sadly. "He gave me a dagger that year, did you know that?"

Bethany shook her head and reached for her sister's hand.

"This is really all his fault," Hawke said with a laugh, before sniffing in. The sky was clear, a sign of the cold. "Never would have gotten into any trouble without something pointy in my hand."

"Please, Hawke," Varric said, turning from where he was keeping an eye on a roving pair of templars. "We all know you'd have gotten yourself into as much trouble as possible, with or without Hawke senior's encouragement."

"Oh shut it," Hawke said and laughed despite herself. She looked down at her arm, still strapped to her chest, and slowly flexed her hand.

"Best we get off the street," Anders said, reaching for her good hand. She let him take it and lead her away in silence.

They found the courtyard of the mage underground and Hawke led the way down the stairs as Anders barred the door behind her. She made a beeline for the fire place, and one of the only mages there roused at the sound of their movement.

"Hawke – you're alive," one said, his hair dishevelled from sleep.

"Yes," she replied, cradling her arm to her chest as she gazed into the flames.

"Aretria will be more glad than you know," he said, and turned to take Bethany's embrace. "And the rest of you too."

"We need to move up the plans," Anders said, and cast a wary glance at Hawke.

She stood too close to the fire, the blistering heat drying her clothing and stolen armour and leaving a scent in the air. There was the scrape of wood on stone as Anders snagged one of the chairs and pulled it close to her. She twitched when he touched her arm, but the tension bled from her shoulders and she allowed herself to be sat down, flexing the hand on her poor arm continuously.

"I don't know how we will," the mage replied, running a hand through his beard. "The templars... I mean, we thought you had to be alive with how angry they are. But there have been so many rumours."

"Why don't you get the Champion something warm to drink, kid," Varric said, snagging another chair to go sit beside her. "Preferably alcoholic."

"Right – of course," he said, smiling weakly at Bethany before disappearing.

"So what do we do next?" Hawke asked, her voice thin.

"_We_ don't do anything," Anders said, running his hands around her shoulders. He dipped down to rest his lips on her brow. "You rest. And keep using your arm."

"Right," Hawke replied with a half laugh, though her eyes steeled as she stared into the flames again.

"And have a drink of course," Varric said and winked.

"Right." Hawke sniffed in, and she glanced at him, though she didn't meet his eye. "Can you find him? Karo?"

Varric smiled, showing his teeth but not in a smile. "Don't you worry your pretty little head. I already know where he is, and what we're going to do to him when we find him."

"Written a nice bedtime story about it?"

Varric caught Anders' gaze, and he smiled and stood. "Maybe. But you'll have to wait – have to keep you in a bit of suspense, don't I?"

"Such an arse sometimes, Varric," Hawke said with a sigh, slouching in the chair to unbuckle her armour. She arched her brow as he went to go snag Bethany's attention, leaving Anders in his place. He leant her father's staff against the fireplace, and she offered no protest as he sunk to a knee and helped her undo the straps more quickly. "Haven't seen that in a while. Making a bold, I'm a free mage and you can't stop me, statement again?"

"What – oh, no." Anders said, glancing up to her briefly. He pulled away her greaves, and stood up to tug the cuirass off. "No... it... well there's something else."

Hawke raised her brow and slumped back into the chair with a shiver. Anders reached for the staff, before moving with a start to grab a grey wool blanket and tuck it around her.

"Always caring for the poor and infirm," Hawke whispered, eyes down as she hugged it close.

"Please, you are the farthest thing from infirm," Anders murmured. He pulled the chair beside her, sitting in the warmth of the fire as he unscrewed the Andrastian figure atop the golden staff.

"What are you doing?" Hawke furrowed her brow.

"You had it all that time and never noticed?" Anders replied with a grin. "It's hollow inside."

Hawke's expression softened, lopsided with memory. "I'm not surprised. That was like father."

Setting the figure aside, Anders stuck a finger into the space and pulled out a roll of canvas. "I've... had this a while. I suppose I could have given it to you sooner – but I'm glad I kept it till now."

"I'm really not in the mood for any new writing of yours, love," Hawke said with a groan, her eyes pleading to him.

"It's nothing like that," Anders said with a laugh, holding the thick roll a moment more before giving it to her. "... Happy Satinalia."

Hawke's expression wiped away as she unrolled the canvas, and saw the portrait of her mother that she had found in the basement of their estate so many years ago. She seemed unable to find breath to speak, before she finally struggled to say, "An.. Anders...it..."

"I took it when we fled the house in Kirkwall," he replied, his voice gravelly. He watched Hawke run her fingers over the paint. "You were giving up everything for me. I knew you'd..." He stopped talking as Hawke took his hand.

"Just shut up and come here you lug of an abomination," Hawke said, letting the canvas roll closed as Anders sunk to his knees between her legs. She threw the blanket around him and hugged his head against her chest. "Thank you. Thank you for remembering it."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Marian. I feel like I've failed you," he said against her bosom, closing his eyes as she wove her fingers into her hair.

"You didn't do it, love," Hawke said, her voice weakened with emotion. She turned her head, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on his head. "Maker's balls, look at what you do to me."

"Sorry," he replied and squeezed her tightly.

"Stop it," Hawke admonished, before kissing his forehead and nose. "Wouldn't want it any other way." Sitting back, she pulled the painting of her mother out from between them. "That wasn't bright."

"I – well I know we don't have anywhere to keep it," Anders replied, putting his hand over Hawke's.

She slowly furled it with her good hand, not looking at him as she said, "Keep it in the staff? That way they're always sort of together..."


	18. CH 18: Vile Consequences

"You know, I saw the most curious thing in the markets."

Hawke tore a bit of bread, seeming unfazed by his words as she dipped it in some soup. "Oh?"

"Oh yes," Varric replied, leaning on the table at which she sat. "Messere Vael himself was keeping company with a group of Chantry soldiers."

Choking on the bread, Hawke horked it back up and Anders had to hit her on the back. "What? He's here?" When Varric nodded, she asked, "And let me guess, you stopped to have a chat."

"Please, he never even saw me," Varric replied, pulling up a chair and reaching for a glass of mead.

"You're certainly cheerful for seeing a man bent on killing us," Anders said and shook his head.

"I am, aren't I?" Varric flashed a smile. "And Blondie, don't kid yourself – he's just one of many."

Anders sighed, head in his hands. "As if his soldiers weren't enough."

Varric finished the drink and picked up a wedge of cheese, motioning to Hawke with it. "We need to leave."

Flexing her hand, Hawke looked at her twisted, scarred arm. "I suppose so."

"And just let them get away with what they did to you?" Anders said, eyes following her as she got up. "We had our chance to run, but you wanted to come back and help. I – we can't abandon them."

Hawke paced a few steps, before she tried to pick up a pewter cup with her faulty arm. The tankard tipped over, thankfully empty, and clattered on the ground. The bitterness of it crept into her features. "Moving in the shadows and plotting is one thing, but I'm not much use in a fight."

"You've still got the one arm," Varric said, unfazed. "And if it comes down to it, I'm sure you'll kick and bite your way out. It's not like you haven't before."

Hawke tried not to smile, shaking her head. "Prefer to keep my biting for Anders alone."

"Maker's breath - I don't need to hear those things, Hawke," Varric said with a groan as Anders coughed a laugh.

Smiling, Hawke was about to sit down again when Bower ran in through the tunnel that led to the Circle. The brevity evaporated from her features as she saw him, and she grabbed her sword and got up. The mabari sleeping at her feet was awake and snarled without hesitation. "You! How did you find me?"

"I'm not the threat," Bower replied, keeping his hands in the air. It was clear he was out of breath.

"And I'm Andraste," Hawke snapped, and was about to advance on him when Varric caught her arm.

"He's with us, beautiful," he said, and tightened his grip as she tried to pull free.

"Yes, yes of course he is," Hawke bitterly replied, jerking her shoulder to pull her weakened arm free. She threatened Bower with the sword. "Have you been lying to them? While you kept me down there?"

"There's no time for this," Bower said, looking until he found Bethany by the fire, rinsing a cooking pot. "Bethany – we have to get out. They're coming."

"What is it?"

There were voices down the tunnel, cries of surprise from their sentries.

"Did you kill them to get to us?" Hawke said, and poked the templar with the end of her sword. "Is it worth it?"

"I'm on your bloody side!" Bower said, and Bethany followed his lead to the door. "The Knight Commander is leading the best of us here. I… I abandoned my post to head them off."

"Where's Aretria?" Bethany asked, letting the plank drop to secure the door.

"It'd be nice to know how they found us, as well," Anders said, taking a place at Hawke's shoulder.

"She's… using this," Bower said. He ran a hand around his neck, swallowing thickly and blinking a bit too long. "They're getting out of the Circle."

"Seems like a plan," Varric said, reaching for Hawke's hip. "Let's get while the getting is good?"

"Answer his question, templar," she said, shaking Varric's hand off again.

The few mages present hurried around them, less eager for an answer and preferring to escape with their lives. The clatter of metal and wood filled the background as they gathered their things.

Bower ran a hand over his mouth, unwilling to meet her gaze as he said, "They have a phylactery. Your phylactery."

"What?" Hawke said in disbelief.

"Andraste's ass, just get your gear, Hawke," Varric grumbled, and they began to move. There was a hit against the wall, and the tip of an arrow protruded in the middle of the door. "People are dying so they don't get here, it'd be a shame to let it be in vain."

Anders and Bethany helped Hawke scramble into her armour, as the wood on the door began to splinter with the force and thump of each hit to break it. They were on the heels of the mages with Bower at their side as Hawke stopped.

"Go," she said, paled but with her sword at the ready. "You can get away."

"Don't think you're making us abandon you this time," Bethany said, and grabbed her sister's arm.

"I won't let them take you again," Anders said and snagged the other, and Hawke back-pedalled with them. "I've lost too much I love to the Chantry – and I can't lose you."

Hawke narrowed her eyes and pulled away, taking a flask from the satchel at her hip and hefting it towards the door. The glass shattered, and a sickly green miasma seeped beneath it and into the air.

"Hawke," Varric said through his teeth.

"Shut up for a change, old man," Hawke murmured as she sunk to her knees and strung a trap across the passage behind them. It was a moment before she set the fire and poisonous flasks in them, when the door across the underground chamber split in twain, letting a trio of templars spill in. They were choking on the air.

"Sometimes, you're even too stubborn of an ass for me. You're lucky I like you." Varric cast Anders a glance and they both grabbed Hawke, pulling her up to run with them in the opposite direction. An arrow followed and hit the slimy brick in their wake, and the shouts of the templars echoed after their gaining pace.

"We all know you love me," Hawke said, half out of breath as they took the stairs. The air was charged with magic, and the hidden door that led to the city was wide open. "I'm like that. You're either all in, or not at all."

They ran into the light of the streets, and were immediately swarmed with the rush of battle. The mages from the underground had fled across the square, leaving fiery chaos in their wake, and their templar pursuers recovered in time to be met with a spray of crossbow bolts.

Tucking her weak arm into a strap across her chest, Hawke flourished her sword and caught a templar in the chink of his breastplate. The man screamed as she jerked the blade and brought forth a well of blood. Before he could answer, she rocked on uneven feet and kicked him down to follow through and cut the sound short.

The air cracked with the arc of magic, before a burst of light radiated from one of the templars and knocked them almost off their feet. Bethany cried out, and Hawke spun to see her sister crumpling against the wall. Ignoring the nauseous turn in her stomach, she ran at the templar advancing upon her sister and body-checked him full force. They grappled, and he grabbed her weak arm, prompting a scream as he twisted and pinned her to the ground - when a row of bolts ascended his chest and finally knocked his top off. She grumbled as she scrambled to push his corpse off and get up, her mabari appearing with a whimper and snarl to run to Bethany.

"Are you alright?" she panted.

Bethany retched once, her hand scraping on the wall as she stood up. "I'll be alright. We have to go."

"Ah yes, escape," Hawke said as she dropped her left arm, weakly motioning with a few fingers. "A fine plan, why didn't I think of it?"

An arrow flew between them before the air filled with dark miasma and obscured everything. Anders was at Hawke's side, a luminous glow in his eyes as he took her upper arm to urge her away - Varric and Bower were calling for them, the sound garbled by the rallying cries of the templars. A sharp whistle cut through the air, trill and urgent.

"Grace, come!" Anders called, and there was a snap and snarl in reply before the mabari bounded after them.

They stumbled along the wall, out of the heavy smoked and into another street, the whistle following them - but not the footsteps. Smoke rose in the distance, and there were people running between the alleys. When Hawke shrunk into the shadows to let Bethany catch her breath, she looked back from where they'd come.

"This way - we have to keep moving," Bower said, linking his arm with Bethany's to help her. "I know it's hard, I'm sorry they did this."

"It's not your fault," Bethany said, and they hurried hurry down the street once more, slipping through an alley before emerging into the sleepy residences. The markets hadn't yet opened.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for it," Varric said as he pushed open a gate, and they carefully ran amidst a clutch of gardens. "But where are the templars?"

"They've gone back to the Circle," Bower replied and quickened his pace.

Weaving through alleys and abandon shacks, they made it to the gates - and a quick nod from Bower to the city guard led them out into the hills. It was only when they collapsed in the lee of a barn to catch their breath that Hawke dropped her hood to look back at the city.

The sun had only risen enough to cast the city in a luminous orange glow, with long shadows stretching away from the walls and obscuring the streets. The smoke was thicker, polluting the dark blue of the morning sky. The chantry and Circle were the largest buildings in the city - with the latter obscured completely by the smoke.

"This feels a little too familiar," Hawke murmured, dropping her hand into Anders' as he took her arm.

"Don't look at me," Anders said when she finally glanced his way.

"I suppose it's fortunate," Varric said, tucking Bianca into the leather strap on his back as he surveyed the land around them. "Or maybe it's a consequence."

"It's Aretria and the mages," Bower said, looking towards the city with concern in his eyes. "I should be with them."

"Thank you for helping us," Bethany said, and it diverted his attention.

"Of course," Bower said without a smile.

"So," Hawke said, leaning into Anders briefly. "What do we do now?"

"There's a waypoint," Bethany said, looking back to her sister, and Bower nodded. "Somewhere we always planned to meet if things went awry."

"Why am I always the last to know these things," Varric muttered.

"My apologies," Hawke said, and picked up to follow Bower and Bethany. "I suppose I have been a little... preoccupied."

* * *

><p>The hills rapidly gave way to rolling wetlands full of rushes and black trees, where the water was frozen but still gave view of the microcosm below. The air was crisp, and the smoke from the city was the only thing that marred the bright, cold sky.<p>

"Another hour or two, at most," Bower said, still leading them through the exposed landscape. There was a cold sweat on his brow, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Best not to walk directly there," Hawke murmured, leaning to give Anders a bit of a push as they walked through a barren patch of land. The reeds were cut clean away, and the trees created a crescent about it. "In case we're being-"

Anders cried out and her words clipped away, as he stumbled forward amidst a volley of arrow and slumped into her arm. Their weapons were out in an instance, and Bethany raised a protective nimbus around them as a troop of soldiers ambushed them from the trees.

Hawke's senses were a blur as she bore Anders' weight, shielding him and pulling him back from the fight. His grace leapt from their side to knock one to the ground, and snatched the soldier's arm, rending it from the socket.

"Anders, love, a-are you alright?" Hawke said as she pulled him farther away. There were more soldiers appearing, her senses blurring out the battle.

He coughed a spat of blood in reply, touching to his chest as he finally shuddered, "Get…out."

"Yes, yes, of course," Hawke said, her voice gaining pitch in fright as she laid him down. There was a trail of blood through the reeds from where they came, and she seemed oblivious to the soldiers. There were two arrows in his back, one high and one in his arse. She laughed sadly as she touched the higher, "You got shot in the ass. This one?"

Anders eyes swam as he blinked and struggled to breath, but he nodded.

"Pull or push?"

"Out," he gurgled, his head flopping to the ground as he motioned.

"Bethany!" Hawke screamed, and grabbed the arrow in his chest, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, love." She jerked the arrow in one motion, shredding the wound and he shuddered on the blood in his throat, when a threadbare wisp of the Fade blossomed in his hand.

Hawke threw the arrow aside, cradling his head as she shook. Her voice gained volume, "Anders – Anders, love, please! You fix me when I'm dead, don't bloody well do this!"

There was another haze of magical light and he choked again, spitting out blood and leaning heavily into her arms as he struggled to breath. Hawke looked up to see the soldiers dead, and Bethany was hurrying over – but there was another pair of men advancing through the marsh.

"He's still breathing," Bethany said, and knelt down beside him. "It punctured his lung, how could you just pull it out!"

"He told me to," Hawke weakly said, laying Anders' head down and getting up as she stared the man down. Varric, Bower and his grace were falling back towards them, and the Starkhaven soldiers lay dead all around them.

"Hawke," Varric said through his teeth, not sparing a glance back as she drew her sword and came by his side. Bower held the collar of her mabari, the threat of a growl perpetually in the hound's throat.

Sebastian's eyes roamed over the fallen men before meeting Hawke's gaze, and he tightened his fist on the bow in his grasp.

"Turn around," Hawke said, her own sword at the ready. Though she tried her best to steel it, there was a waver in her voice. "I don't want to kill you, Sebastian, but I will."

"Nor I you, serah," Sebastian replied. He made no move to dismiss the soldier at his side, whose bow was still drawn taut.

Hawke offered a cold smile and slowly stepped towards him. "You walked away that day, it's something you're good at. Why stop now?"  
>"Anders will answer for his crimes – that abomination must die and pay for the sins he has committed against the Maker! Lay down your weapons!"<p>

"That's cute how you think I'll let you touch him," Hawke said, taking another step towards him. Her smile became predatory.

"You're in no position to-" Sebastian cried out as a bolt hit him in the leg, and the man beside him dropped as another followed in quick succession to catch his associate in the neck. As the prince stumbled, Hawke kicked his legs out from under him.

"There's more on the hill," Bower said, and Hawke stopped mid swing.

Hawke grabbed him by a shiny white pauldron. His teeth were grit in pain. "Next time, I will kill you. Move on with your life. And hope you can find a mage willing to heal you." She gave the arrow a twang, and he cried out.

"He won't escape me, Marian," Sebastian said in a huff, before he cried. "Captain! Get the men!"  
>Hawke growled to herself and punched him with a quick snap, and his head went limp amidst the crushed reeds and frozen patches of snow. She hurried back to Anders side.<p>

"I got the other arrow out," Bethany said, wiping her bloodied hands in the snow. Their mabari was licking Anders' cheek. "I don't know if he can walk."  
>"I will. I'm fine," Anders said with some strain, pushing the dog away as he looked up to Hawke.<p>

"Come on," she said, and hoisted him up, letting him lean into her. "We need to move."

A rejuvenating aura of golden light uplifted them.

"You're going to leave him?" Anders said, cringing in pain as they moved. "Bloody void, hold on." He cast a spell and shuddered, his eyes darkening.

"He was our friend once," Hawke emptily said, steeling her arm around him again as they hurried away. "Mother wouldn't want me to."

"Right," Anders said, looking down. They could hear the other soldiers calling out, and broke into a stilted run.


	19. CH 19: Sunshine

It was the middle of the night when they finally made it to the caves near the ocean. There was a mage and templar sentry standing watch, but once they saw Bower and Bethany, they allowed the bedraggled group in without question.

"What took you so long?" Aretria asked as she embraced Bethany, before letting Bower pull her close. She sighed and slumped into the man. "I thought they had killed you."

"No," Bower replied, closing his eyes a moment and pressing his lips into her hair. "We took a detour – we were attacked by Chantry soldiers."  
>"Friends of mine," Hawke said as she eased Anders down by the fire. There was a peculiar aura of magic about it that contained and muted the light and smoke.<p>

"Are you alright?" Aretria asked, and put a hand against his cheek. "You shouldn't go through this so quickly."

"I'll be alright," Bower said with greater mediation, letting her go. He licked at his dry lips repeatedly. "I cannot put myself back under their yoke."

"Come," Aretria said, leading him back to where more mages and templars were resting. "Eat at least."

Anders' eyes stayed on them as Hawke gingerly stripped off his pants.

"You know, you're usually more excited about this sort of thing?"

"Hmm? Escaping templars?" Anders said, looking down at her. He sighed and rested on his arms, lying on his stomach.

"Me taking your pants off, obviously," Hawke murmured.

"On that note, I think I'll join the mages, thanks," Varric said and flashed a smile, before shuffling off to collapse in exhaustion nearby.

"Let me, sister," Bethany said, and lifted her hands over Anders. There was a well of light and she sighed. "You know, it would have been fine."

"Maybe I wanted to take his pants off," Hawke said, and patted a hand on Anders' bare thigh, causing him to twitch. "It was his idea, really."

"I suggested stitches," Anders murmured against his arm, and shook his head. He waved a hand to stop his grace from licking him. "Not my bare ass."

"They'd help," Bethany said and sat down, digging the spool of thread from her pack. She held it a moment before giving it to Hawke. "I'll let you do it. I'd… rather not."

Hawke smiled. "Come now, it's a lovely backside."

Bethany shook her head and got up, patting her thigh to encourage the mabari to follow her.

"You do know what you're doing, right?" Anders asked and turned his head as much as he could. He still couldn't see her.

"Of course," Hawke replied and patted his lower back. "Like fixing a hole in my shirt."

"Which I've never seen you – ngh." Anders laid his head back down as she stuck him with the needle. She worked quickly, and he had enough experience with injury to keep still despite her tugs. "Sebastian won't let me be. Was it wise to leave him alive?"

Hawke jerked the thread and Anders grunted. "You know me – not the wisest individual."

"I didn't mean that."

"I know," Hawke said with a sigh, and stiffly moved to knot and cut the thread with a thwick of her blade. She patted his cheek. "Heal up, love."

As Anders shuffled carefully to gain the room to cast, he asked, "Any idea of Aretria's plans?"

"They have a phylactery of me Anders," Hawke said, taking his trousers to fix the hole there too – and did as poor of a job as his arse. She tossed the thread in her leather satchel, and flung the pants at him. "I don't think they are much of our concern. I can't stay here."

Anders snagged his trousers, gingerly pulling them on. "We'll get far away then."

"Can you ever?" Hawke said under her breath.

Anders chuckled darkly. "I'd like to think so. After all the times I tried to escape, I have a bit of an idea of how far their reach can go."

"We'll rest," Hawke said, leaning her elbows on her knees and staring at Bethany. She was talking with the other mages, embracing them. She belonged with them. His grace butted under her hand and she smiled tiredly at him while rubbing his neck. "Rest only as much as needed and then go."

* * *

><p>Anders sat beside Bower, chewing a root he'd gathered. The man was folded upon himself and pale, a cold sweat on his skin. Spitting the masticated root into the wooden cup in his hand, Anders mashed it with the other dried bits. Warming some water with a wave of his hand, he topped up the cup, and the mixture darkened it to a burnt brown.<p>

"Drink this," Anders said, and extended the drink. "It will help, I assure you."

Aretria sank to her knees and urged the cup into Bower's grasp. The man pulled it to his lips and quaffed it in one motion, shuddering briefly at the bitterness.

"Thank you," she said, and touched Anders hand.

Rising, Anders nodded and said, "You should be able to make it yourself with relative ease. It will help him sleep. Omit the stamen if he needs to be awake."

"No," Bower said, but already his eyes began to droop.

"There's no need to torture yourself anymore than you already have," Anders said, more harshly than intended. He followed Aretria away from the fire, taking his steps with care.

"He said the Chantry increased their rations," Aretria said, and glanced back to where the templar was reclining onto a bedroll. "He stopped after the first week. They're so frightened of desertion, it seems like they'll do anything to tighten their hold."

"Are so many leaving?"

"You saw how many came with us," she said under her breath, and motioned nearby. "And we are just one Circle."

"We've had many templars attack us," Anders said, hurrying to Hawke's side to take over strapping her armour. "I always assumed they were acting on Chantry orders."

"Some may be," Aretria said, and gave the bun her hair was bound in a squeeze. "Going hunting?"

"We're leaving tonight," Hawke said under her breath, cringing as she picked up her satchel. She flexed her left hand. "You will have enough trouble on your own, you don't need me around drawing them in."

"We have phylacteries too, Hawke," Aretria said, concern evident in her eyes. "I hold no illusions, I know we weren't able to destroy them all. Nevermind those that are held in Starkhaven."

"They won't be so kind as to throw me in a dungeon next time," Hawke said, and stopped what she was doing, swallowing thickly. "Will… will you take care of Bethany?"

"I…" Aretria's expression faltered, and she folded her hands over her abdomen. "Of course. She's become a dear friend."

"Grace," Hawke whispered loudly and gave a whistle, rousing the dog from where he lay nearby. She stopped moving at Anders' insistence, and he finished jerking the straps of her pilfered armour tight. She touched where it pinched, and he adjusted it. "Bloody hell… I miss being a rich bitch with perfect things."

The hound disappeared as Varric saddled up beside Hawke, a heavy sigh sinking his shoulders.

"You don't need to come, you know," Hawke murmured under her breath.

"Oh, well then," Varric said, waving a hand before crossing his arms. "Why didn't you say so? I'll just saunter back to Kirkwall then and settle in at the Hanged Man." He gave her a blank stare.

"Let me grab one more thing," Anders said, and hurried amidst the sleeping mages and templars.

"You're a good friend, Varric," Hawke said, yet unwilling to meet his gaze. She wound a tattered scarf around her neck and tugged a hat over her ears. "Better than I've deserved."

"Don't I know it, beautiful," Varric said, and reached up to adjust the scarf, pulling it up to conceal her face. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

"I don't want to," she said with a half-laugh. "It's my intent to give you the means to escape, before it's too late."

"It was too late months ago," Varric sighed, tugging his coat on and buttoning as he smirked at her. "Much too late."

There was a wuff nearby, and the clatter of movement in the dark preceded Bethany running towards them. She brushed her dark hair back from her face and glared at Hawke. "Marian. What do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting you," Hawke replied with a tight smile, and gave her sister's shoulder a push. "Besides, you're obviously sick of me by now."

"I've never been sick of you," Bethany said, throwing her hands up. Hawke shouldered her last pack, and Anders was by her side again to help her with it. "That's it. You think you can just leave me here?"

"Yes, leave you here with other mages where you can do some good and avoid an untimely death." Hawke sniffed in, and patted her armour down. "Ready then?"

"No," Bethany said, and when Hawke glanced away, she snagged her by the collar of her armour. "You do not get to decide that for me, sister."

"Bethany –"

"Be quiet for a change," Bethany said, and gripped the armour tighter when Hawke took her wrist. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm not some waif or weak woman."

"You rhyme far too well for that," Hawke murmured, and quieted as Bethany gave her a slight shake.

"Stop it," Bethany said, a tremor in her voice. "I won't let you leave me here. We're family. What would mother say if she knew you were doing this? What of Carver?"

"What were you thinking, Marian?" Hawke replied with a bit of defeat. "Are you drunk? I'm not, I assure you." She shot Anders a look.

Bethany shot a finger at Varric. "So help me, if you care for us at all, do not let her leave. Grace, come." She hurried away and began to gather her things.

"He can stay with her, then," Hawke said and turned towards the cave, when Varric snagged the loose strap of her belt. She made a sound and glanced at him. "My dear dwarf, hands off the merchandise."

"Just wait for Sunshine," Varric grumbled in reply. "We need some light in these dark times."


	20. CH 20: Fugitives

A/N: Sorry if I'm posting slower - begun earnestly writing my thesis, and it's leaving me out of steam writing wise most days. But know this isn't far from my mind!

* * *

><p>"He didn't make it far. Not far enough, anyway," Varric said under his breath, sitting hunched alongside her beneath the eaves of their tent. In the wilderness of the eastern Marches, there was no sign of civilization around. The days had blurred together as they zigzagged, taking an erratic route to avoid roads, patrols, and more importantly, fuddle any pursuers.<p>

Hawke shuffled a bit closer to the fire and wiped her nose on the cuff of her jacket. She continued to stare at the darkness as Varric followed suit, and they huddled together in the humid cold. "Karo was working with them, Varric. They'll know where he's going too."

"I don't know if I'd give them that much credit," Varric grumbled. "He got out of Ostwick pretty quickly after the ambush."

Anders watched them from where he sat bracing a rabbit over the flames. Bethany leant forward to toss a handful of spindly sprigs on the fire, and it glowed hotter.

"The coward he is, I'd rather let him stew and fret over my impending revenge," Hawke said and smirked. "What is worse, the attack, or the one that never comes? He must know I'm out of the templars clutches by now."

"If not Markham, where then?"

"If we get far enough, the phylactery won't work," Anders offered.

"You think I know?" she asked quietly. "It -" Hawke's words cut off as his grace leapt up from where he slept, a low growl in his throat. She snagged her sword and was on her feet with him before anyone else could speak. "Where?"

Another low rumble in his throat, the mabari tucked his ears back and shot away from camp into the dark.

"Bloody mutt," Varric muttered and hauled to his feet, dragging Bianca with him to follow as Hawke ran off to the slaughter. There was a cry of surprise in the dark, and he saw the shifting shadows of a swung torch. It seems they'd caught their hunters by surprise.

A burst of brilliant white light buffeted him back, and Bethany just scarce caught his arm. Hawke cried and crumpled, clutching one of the templars and taking him down with her, while his grace snapped and snarled with renewed vigour.

"I don't think so," Hawke growled, and smacked the templar's helmet off with the pummel of her sword before knocking him out with the same motion.

The ground swelled with a hazy blue mist, and Hawke stumbled as the din of fighting dulled, and her senses lulled too, limbs weighing down. Her heart raced, like she'd had too much chocolat on Feast Day, but her body slumped and the world tilted, naught but panic inside the cage of her thoughts.

She woke to the whine of her hound, and Anders' concerned face, and found herself hauled up to her feet before she was fully aware of her surroundings.

"Sorry love," Anders said, putting her sword back in her hand. "Seemed the best move."

Groggily struggling to open her eyes, Hawke squinted at the bodies around them. "They - they're dead?"

"Sleeping," Bethany replied.

"Soon to be dead," Anders said, his voice edging harder.

Hawke shook her head and pulled from their grasp. "We need to take him."  
>"You know, I'd ask if you're out of your mind, but I already know the answer to that," Varric murmured.<p>

"We need answers," Hawke replied, her voice cracking with sleep. "Help me. Then fry the rest."

Bethany stood by as Varric grabbed the man on the ground and helped hoist him over Hawke's shoulder. "Who have we become, sister?"

"Apostates, the all of us," she groaned, and struggled to stand up. Wheezing she said, "They came to kill us."

"You don't know that."

"And I don't give a shit," Hawke snapped and stared at her. They turned as a man behind them groaned, and she glanced to Anders. He nodded without a word, and the ground burst with flames and arcs of lightning at his command. She looked down at her hound. "Camp?"  
>The mabari grumbled in reply before sniffing the air and picking the right direction. Bethany stared at her, unable to watch where the few men who'd woke began to scream.<p>

"Damn it," Varric huffed and turned Bianca on them, shooting them down as they roused, half-burnt and sleepy. Soon there was only the crackle of the magical flames dying down, and the scent of charred flesh.

"We'll search the bodies at first light," Hawke croaked, moving with a slow gait as she bore the weight of the unconscious templar across her shoulders.

* * *

><p>It was a grim job, but it seemed the better one than Hawke tasked herself with. Bethany's eyes were on her as she wandered off through the trees with Varric and his grace - towards where the templar bodies lay. A fine frost covered the ground, and the forbs and grasses crunched underfoot as Hawke paced around the templar bound to the ash tree. They'd done their best to keep him quiet through the night, but his protests had grown - as had her sister's. Their arguing had left Hawke's throat hoarse, and she'd hit the templar again when he started to call for aide. Varric had gagged him before he could do more harm - but it had come off for her insistent queries.<p>

The man's eyes followed her, and Anders sat beneath their tent and skinned a nug. He could have been a younger relation - a mop of dark hair, and a strong nose that reminded her of that ass of a dead brother.

"You needant do this, serah," he whispered. "Let the mages come with me and all will be forgot."

"Except for the fact that you're taking the people I love," Hawke replied, snagging her pack to deposit opposite him and sit upon it. "Where are you stationed?"

"You may yet seek forgiveness for all this," the templar murmured, stretching his chin and urging the gag to fall further down his neck. His eyes flicked from her to Anders. "And you, ser. We only want to protect you."

"Imprison me, more like it," Anders replied, and clenched a fist, but didn't rise from where he sat. He wiped his hands on the cold ground before staking the nug over the fire. "You could have made the choice not to follow us."

"Where were you stationed?" Hawke repeated, hands clenched into fists and arms upon her knees. She watched him with a flat expression.

"Markham," he replied, swallowing dryly.

"How did you find us?"

"I - I'm not sure what you mean, you attacked us," he said, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, because it is so wise to simply let the templars come - to let you cart us off without a trouble or care." Hawke huffed and stood up, and after double glancing to be sure her sister was nowhere in sight, caught his jaw in a quick hook. His breath clipped in a surprised groan, and she tightened her fist and glared down at him.

"W-we were patrolling! Yes of course, for mages - it is the Divine's decry and the Maker's will!" he replied, furrowing his brow and glancing up to her.

"Convenient," Hawke replied, her voice low with threat. "Perhaps you wish to end up as your compatriots? My mabari never gets enough meat, you know."

"Maker's mercy!"

"Just a little chew," Hawke said and brandished a Cheshire smile. "Could even have my mage friends heal you up after. They're useful for that, aren't they."

The man squirmed and tested his bonds again. "Serah, please, just let me go!"

"What have they done with my phylactery!"

"Phy - you, you're a mage?"

"Funny," Hawke said and snatched him by the collar of his armour. She tried to move, her left arm sluggish, and made a frustrated sound, opting to kick him weakly instead. "Of course you don't know who I am, is that it?"

"Ser, stop her."

"Yes, because you have my best in mind," Anders replied from where he stood a few paces behind her. "And if I help you, you'll obviously do all you can for my fellow mages, mm?"

"The Champion of Kirkwall," Hawke said, and levelled her gaze down at him, her hand coming to rest on her dagger. Her voice carried the threat. "If not your company, then who has my phylactery?"

The templar's eyes widened with knowledge as he looked up at her. "And what if I do? You'll just kill me for fun."

"Fun?" Hawke said in disbelief. "You think I enjoy this? You think I enjoy what you've done with my life?"

"Templars are the only innocents in the world," Anders replied, disgust creeping into his words. "The Chantry can never do any wrong, especially where mages are concerned."

There was an alarmed woof, and as Hawke looked, her mabari came bounding from around the edge of the bluff. He leapt around with nervous whimpers, and she paled and looked through the trees.

"Bethany," she looked back at the templar. "What did they do to her, you bastard!"

"Marian!" her sister's voice followed over the hills, and she came running into view, obviously out of breath. "Templars - there's more coming, Varric saw them across the valley."

"Did they see you?" Hawke asked, and took her sister's arm as she shook her head.

"No," Bethany replied. "No, I don't think so."

Varric soon jogged up, huffing himself and cursing under his breath. Once he was there, he leant back against the prominent bluff of rock. "I am not designed for this."

"How would they know!" Hawke said, turning on the templar where he sat again. She almost grabbed him, but Bethany caught her arm.

"Sister, stop!"

"Surrender, and they will be lenient," the templar said meekly.

"No!" Hawke said and tore her arm away. They stared at each other a moment in defiance. "Gather our things. Continue on the route, Anders and I will leave him somewhere to be found."

"I don't want to be separated again," Bethany said with greater temperance in her words.

"It won't be long," Hawke replied, and she offered a weak smile. "I'll leave him with the others, he'll be easier to find - if that was their patrol route as he says. Besides, Varric's got little legs, we'll be able to catch up with a brisk walk."

"Very funny," the dwarf murmured.

"Just strike camp," she said and smirked at him. Tucking the gag back over the templar's mouth, her eyes hardened. "We'll be back soon."

The templar hoisted over her shoulder, Hawke moved slowly over the landscape with Anders at her side.

"Is it really wise to leave him alive? He knows us now - you had to go and tell him who you are." Anders sighed, eyes roving the landscape as they followed the mesa.

Hawke didn't answer, but led them through the scraggly trees. The sun overhead was breaking through the morning mists and melting the frosts, letting their feet squish into the grasses and sandy soil. They soon came upon the scorched patch of ground. The bodies were lined up, and had a meagre amount of soil tossed on them - Bethany's doing, no doubt.

"Get down, I saw something," Anders said, crouching and pointing across the valley. "There - a glint."

Dropping the templar on his face, Hawke planted a foot on his arse, and sank her knee onto his back to pin him. Her throat tightened as she said, "I know it's not wise. I know it's too much of a risk."

Without a word, Hawke drew her dagger and stabbed him in the back of the neck, severing his spine.

* * *

><p>The days ran together as they charted an erratic, aimless path across the land, with little more than a few hours of sleep each night. Though they hadn't run into another templar patrol, the threat of their presence and consequence wasn't far from their minds. Trudging through the damp, cool air of late winter often left their feet numb and their under-armour soaked.<p>

"I really don't know, Varric," Hawke said with exasperation. She wiped a tattered sleeve across her nose. "Didn't really think of a destination when we set out on this vacation."

"Maybe we should go home," Anders interjected.

Hawke laughed and glanced at him. Her cheeks were rosy from the crosswind. "To Kirkwall? Oh yes, that would be perfect."

"To Ferelden. Isn't that where everything started?" Anders replied, and smirked. He glanced towards the horizon, the weight returning to his features as Hawke watched him. "There is only one Circle, and it was granted its independence by the crown before all this started. Seems like less of a threat, doesn't it?"  
>Hawke stuck her hands beneath her armour, trying to warm them against her skin. Anders stepped closer, until they were walking shoulder to shoulder.<p>

"Maybe Neria - the Hero - affected something. I'd heard things... about a commune for mages in the south."

"Sounds cold," Varric grumbled.

"I never thought I'd see Ferelden again," Bethany said, watching where his grace bounded to inspect nearby bushes and lift his nose to the wind.

"Hercinia doesn't have a Circle," Anders offered. "Or a Warden compound. We could go there, it's on the coast."

"But it does have a chantry," Hawke replied, and stopped in her tracks. The others paused and looked to her. "We've come this far, we can't run off with our tail between our legs."

Anders lifted his eyes to the sky, watching the fast moving clouds, before stepping closer to Hawke. "I don't know how much more we can affect. I - I don't think they need us anymore, love."

"And what of Justice?" Hawke shrugged, though the furrow in her brow betrayed her concern. "What does he think of all this?"

"You saw what happened in Ostwick," Anders replied, a curious laugh in his throat. "That wasn't us. They saw the chance to be free - they saw they wanted to be more. They wanted to be treated like any common man... and they're striving for it. Isn't that justice?"

Hawke's expression softened, and she pressed her lips together. She disentangled her hands and reached for him. "It's all been you. You gave them the hope - and the strength to be free."

Varric sighed and glanced at the thawing landscape around them; the blackened trees and craggy cliffs that broke out like shards of glass. "Ah freedom. Horrible, horrible freedom."

"Hercinia then." Hawke nodded and they began to walk again, but stopped and turned to Varric, who stood rooted in place with the mabari at his side.

"Then you're going the wrong way, my dear," Varric replied and pointed off through the lowlands.

"Of course," Hawke flashed a smile at him, and reached for Bethany's arm. "Just testing you."

Shaking his head, Varric followed and muttered, "Bloody dwarf, and I'm the only one on the surface with a sense of direction."


	21. CH 21: Hercinia

The land gave way to the flood plains and marshes of the coast as they trudged closer to Hercinia. A meagre wall met them as they approached the port town, and naught a guard stopped their egress to the single inn. From its spot uphill, the moorings and docks of the harbour were visible, and the ripe scent of the mongers at market permeated every inch.

"Smells like home, doesn't it," Varric said with a satisfied sigh. Crossing his arms he gave a shrug. "A view of the sea isn't the same without chains though."

"Or the shipwrecks," Hawke added, and he nodded in agreement.

"Aren't we going in?" Bethany asked, hesitating on the stoop with his grace at her side.

"No," Hawke replied, and started down the hill. "We barely have the coin for passage, let alone the comfort of a bed."

"Are you feeling alright, love?" Anders asked.

"Fine," Hawke replied, and furrowed her brow at him. "Why?"

Varric laughed and met the glint in Anders' gaze with a wink of his own. "You're refusing a drink. Blondie knows you, don't act like he doesn't."

"Hmph." Hawke glanced back at the inn wistfully before patting her thigh and starting down the hill with his grace. They followed her along the creaking, weathered boardwalk to the harbourmaster's office, where she rapped her knuckles on the closed door.

"Hey – no!" Anders called, but it was too late – the mabari had taken off, chasing a piper into the water with a splash.

"There's no stopping him," Hawke said, and crossed her arms. "You know that."

"For being the smartest dogs in the world, I always hope he'll actually listen," Anders murmured in reply.

"Just means they know enough not, I think," Bethany said with a thin grin.

Hawke knocked again more loudly. A few small boats were moored in the harbour, though there was scarce a sign of any workers. When she was about to knock again, the door opened to reveal a salty, grizzled man who batted her hand away.

"Ah!" Hawke flashed a debonair flair of ivories. "The harbourmaster I assume?"

"Aye," he replied, and coughed a bit of phlegm up to spit haphazardly at her feet.

Hawke spared but a glance at the gob, her smile unfaltering. "Rather quiet day at the docks, mm? My companions and I wish to buy passage on the next ship to Ferelden – any port."

"Preferebly not Denerim," Anders added with a cough under his breath.

"Not a day to be working," the man replied, unmoved from his place blocking the doorway. "Should be at the Chantry with the rest."

"Yes," Hawke said with an odd laugh. "Yes, of course. I apologize, we've been travelling. But passage?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "It's almost a fortnight till the first ships from Ferelden reach us. The seas are no place to be in the spring."

"Ah, well I –" Hawke's words cut off as her gaze drifted, and the man shut the door on them. She took a step back from it and cleared her throat. "What a gentleman."

"What are we going to do?" Bethany asked.

"We'll camp outside of town. Far outside of town," Hawke replied, and turned to whistle sharply. His grace stopped his antics in the water and lifted his head. With a quick motion from her, he bounded out and shook off. "We'll move every night."

"A fortnight is a long time for the templars to get here," Varric grumbled.

"Yes, because I hadn't thought about that one," Hawke said, and marched off with her mabari dripping a path along the dock beside her.

* * *

><p>With silent care, Hawke plucked a salted shank from the larder and slipped it in her bag, her eyes glued on the bed across the room. She let her gaze dart here and there to scope for more. She snagged three silvers from the shelf and a cloth-wrapped bit of cheese, and cringed as a piece of parchment beneath it crackled.<p>

She released a pent breath as the man in the bed rolled and grumbled, but stayed asleep. In another moment, she made it out the door and was in the street without incidence. It was a long walk back to their hidden camp, and morning was bleeding into the sky when she finally collapsed beside the slumped fire. Anders looked up and finished rolling the parchment in his grasp, and tucked the quill inside, before both disappeared into the hollow of his staff.

"Where have you been?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Hawke whispered, and tugged her satchel off to drop it at his feet. She shuffled and stretched down to lay in his lap as he opened it.

"Shouldn't you?" he asked, and pulled out a rye roll.

"Yes, on a bed of gold and Orlesian silk," she murmured, turning her face into his abdomen. She sighed as he tugged his fingers through her short hair. "I've almost enough for passage."

Anders' fingers tightened in her dark hair briefly, a flicker of blue in the whites of his eyes. It was a moment before he spoke. "Varric and Bethany left for town just before you arrived. To try and sell what we've left from the templars."

"How's your ass?"

A tired smile warmed his expression. "Almost better."

"Excellent," Hawke murmured against him, reaching round his thigh to give his lean leg a squeeze. "Can't wait to fatten you up again."

"In Ferelden? Perhaps you remember it differently than I do..."

Hawke snagged the collar of his coat and pulled him down over her, and he folded into his lap as she stole a kiss. When he tried to sit back up, she tightened her grip and kissed him again, each one slow, savoured, and gaining length.

Burying her fingers in Anders' hair, Hawke held him close and pressed her lips into his cheek before whispering, "I miss you."

Linking his fingers around Hawke's waist, Anders sat up and pulled her with him – though not without difficulty. "I am right here, you know."

"That's not what I meant," Hawke said with a smirk and cocked her eyebrow. Fingers plying his scalp she looked over his features, eyes falling half-lidded. Her thumb came forward over the creases around his mouth and temples. "Wrinkles. Where else are you getting wrinkles?"

"Hmph," Anders replied against her lips as she kissed him again, closing his eyes as she massaged through his hair.

"Such a cat," she whispered against him, shifting her weight to sit in his lap and let her hand ply away.

"They know how to live life right," Anders murmured, nuzzling his lips against her forehead and short hair. "Sleep, food, and a good rub down. And freedom. No matter all the rest, always freedom."

"Is that what you see coming?" Hawke asked, and left her head nestled against his chest.

Anders reached for the rye roll, and ripped a small bit off. He ate it before saying, "I know it isn't easy. But this life… even in fear, this will always be better than the confines of stone."

"The running never bothered me," Hawke murmured, stealing a bit of the bread herself. "I can see it in Bethany. More than she knows – she's always carried such heavy guilt because of the running."

"Mages will make havens of their own," Anders said without prompting. "They can isolate themselves together – and live with those they love, and teach each other the control they need. They won't have to die for the gifts they've been given."

Hawke chuckled and turned her lips up into the stubble of his chin. "You're preaching to the choir, my dear."

Anders' expression softened, and he ate the rest of the bread before linking his arms around her and lying back on the blanket laid out beneath the lean-to of their encampment. Hawke settled against him, her hair tickling under his chin. Overhead clouds striated across the sky, warming into embers with the match strike of dawn. He could hear birds, they'd been singing louder as of late – different songs that answered and called, twitters and shrill dances of joy.

His thoughts harkened back to a different time – a different life. A world so full of beauty…

His hand crept up Hawke's back, squeezing her shoulder before caressing up her neck. "Everyone deserves this," he whispered.

* * *

><p>Hawke held the edge of her hood up about her face, the wind whipping off the waves with unhindered ferocity. There was a cluster of workers unloading the ship at the farthest dock, and she hurried over the slick boards to eye it. His grace followed in her wake without a care for the inclement weather - which could not be said for the rest of her companions.<p>

Leaning under the eaves of the harbourmaster's office, Hawke hid her face in the worn scarf wrapped around her neck, and tucked her hands up under her arms. Watching them work brought memories of Gwaren, of the fearful passage with the Blight on their heels, and all that had been lost since then. Memories of brown Ferelden fields, and the smell of darkspawn and burning corpses.

"Couldn't have waited for a nicer day? I think my legs have gone numb. I still have legs, right?" Varric called to her over the wind, slumping against the wall beside her. He winkled his nose and glanced at Anders, who had his face into the wind, watching the clouds over the water.

Hawke turned back to them from her distraction, and gave the dwarf a push. They huddled together to break the wind as she spoke, "Come on, Varric, we all know how eager you are to be aboard."

"You're sure they'll take us?" Bethany said, glancing to the workers. The wind tore tears from her eyes and they rolled down her chapped cheeks, and she blinked rapidly to let them go.

"The harbourmaster said the captain often does," Hawke said with a close-lipped smile. "And that he should be ashore this morning."

"And what if they don't? What then?" Anders cut in, and their eyes turned to him. "Do you know how long it took me to find passage here from Ferelden?

"Ever the optimist," Hawke grumbled, before adding, "That was on the heels of the Blight."

"We'll never know if we just stand around here freezing our tits off," Varric said, and gave Hawke a push. "Put that tongue to better use."

"That's what Anders always says," Hawke said, and her tongue touched her upper lip. Varric groaned and Bethany rolled her eyes, as she turned away and beckoned his grace along. "What Ferelden can resist helping a mabari, right?"  
>The hound woofed and followed her headlong into the wind. She blinked rapidly and wrapped the cloth around her hands tighter, pacing before catching the attention of one of the workers.<p>

"Where's the captain?"

The bearded man jerked a hand towards one of the warehouses, and she nodded and hurried to it. Pushing through the leather flaps that covered the doorway, the back and forth of business chatter cut off as a shipper, and if the hat was any indication, the dark-skinned captain looked at her.

"You lost, woman?" the shipper said, and crossed his arms over the barrel of his chest.

"Horribly," Hawke said and rolled her eyes and sighed. "And completely helpless too. Captain Pena?"

"Yes, how may I assist?" the man replied, a scant Antivan accent lilting his words.

"I've heard you take on passengers – and that you're going to Ferelden," Hawke replied, offering a smile. He returned the sentiment as his grace left her side and trotted up to sniff the man.

"Bloody dog lords," the shipper muttered.

"We will speak later," Captain Pena said, and waved a hand before kneeling to ruffle the dog's ears. The other rotund man grunted and clomped off through the warehouse. "Aye, if we've room, and the travellers have the coin. Going home?"

"Yes," Hawke said, and the thought tightened her throat. She laughed as his grace huffed and rolled to let the man give him a proper rub down. "What a disgrace, look at you!"

"Ahh he knows when to take advantage," Captain Pena said, arching his brow and looking down at the hound. "How many of you?"

"Four – and my mabari, of course," she replied, tugging her coin purse free and waving it aloft.

"Of course," the captain replied, and his eyes creased with his smile as he glanced to her. He stood up and rubbed the hound's wide chest with the toe of his leather boots, taking the purse and checking the coin. "I am not a man to ask many questions. Know if you cause trouble for me or my crew, you will not last the voyage."

"Rightly so," Hawke said, and flashed a smile. "We'd like to board as soon as possible."

"I am waiting on cargo... so it will be some days before we leave," Captain Pena said, and watched her with an appraising eye. "It will be sooner if the weather improves."

"We'll help, just tell us what to do," Hawke said, putting her hands on her hips. "My family and I are hardly invalids."

"Bene," the man said and smiled as well, crossing his arms. "Ferelden then."


	22. CH 22: The Insolent Minx

"The Insolent Minx," Anders said as he huffed for breath and lifted another barrel with Hawke. She helped it onto his shoulder, before hoisting her own cargo with her good arm. The name was written in script across the stern of the two-masted schooner. "Seems like a ship made for you, love."

"Isn't it just?" Hawke replied, a sparkle in her eyes despite the weight she bore. She glanced to where Bethany divided the herb cache she'd collected, and narrowed her eyes as Captain Pena stepped closer to her sister.

"What are you...growling at, anyway," Anders huffed, following her up the gangplank onto the ship. They followed where one of the shipmates indicated.

"Growling?" Hawke asked, and grunted as she stacked the sack in the hold. Her voice deadened against the cargo that filled the space. "I don't growl."

"Of course not," Anders replied, unconvinced.

"Captain Pena is far too friendly with my sister," Hawke murmured as they went back on deck. Her eyes strayed to the pair, who laughed as if on cue. The wind still whipped unrepentant as it had for two days straight, and carried their words away.

"... plars that marched into town. Put folks on edge, it has."

Hawke's attention snapped to the pair of workers chatting nearby, and she put a hand on Anders. "What's that, eh?"

"Seekers, from the sound," the man said, and the pair turned to her as she hesitated. "Big group of them back in town."

"Maker knows what they want," the other replied, shaking his head. "Templars up and left us, they did. Like we don't need protectin' or somethin'."

"Aye," Hawke replied, an emptiness to her words. She seemed frozen a moment, her eyes lost on a distant point up shore from the docks. It was only when Anders snagged her arm she moved.

"Hawke," he whispered more urgently.

"Where's Varric?"

"In town, didn't he go to sell some of our gear?"

Hawke pulled out of his grasp and hurried down the dock towards Bethany, almost running despite her efforts to appear nonchalant.

"Serah, the efforts going well?" Captain Pena said, resting his hand on the small of Bethany's back as the pair smiled.

"Yes, ser," Hawke said with a strained smile. "Almost fully loaded."

"Excellent," he purred, and put a clutch of the herbs into a cloth. He lifted it and nodded. "Your sister is quite the woman."  
>"Yes, she is," Hawke said, and narrowed her eyes. "You might call me a bit protective of her."<p>

"Marian," Bethany said, and almost rolled her eyes as she looked at the Captain. "She doesn't approve of anyone enjoying themselves unless she is too."

"What is that suppo- nevermind," Hawke said and waved her hand as Anders took to her side. "They..." Her words faltered as the pair looked at her, and she smiled despite herself. "They've caught up with us, sister."

The small pouch fell from Bethany's grasp. "They're here? Sweet Andraste..."

"My dear captain," Hawke said, leaning on the crates they were using for a table. "I don't suppose you'd be inclined to leave harbour today? I would forever be in your debt."

"Don't be ridiculous," Captain Pena laughed, and motioned at the dark clouds over the sea. "I would have to be mad to sail us into that. You can wait another day."

"No," Bethany said, and turned to the man. "No, we can't."

"Hawke," Varric called, and his grace ran from the dwarf's side with a bark as the pair made haste down the stairs to the dock.

"They'll kill us," Bethany blurted, and Captain Pena looked at her.

"And you, no doubt," Hawke said with an easy smile. "Lovely people, that they are. Grab that, will you?" With some strain, she hoisted up the crate between them, while Anders and Varric took the rest.

"Who, cara mia?" the captain replied, bemused despite their air.

Bethany looked at him as her expression creased, and with a glance at Hawke she said, "The templars."

Captain Pena laughed once, and touched her arm, "The Chantry seeks you? You know, that I would have such luck."

"This is no laughing matter," Bethany said, and groaned to lift the crate he motioned at. He took one side, and lifted another bit of cargo, walking towards the ship with her. "It's me. They'll kill me.. I... I'm an apostate."

"I suppose you can calm the skies then?"

"I don't know how much I can affect," Bethany said, her voice faltering and gaining pitch with her panic. She looked to where Hawke was grabbing more of the cargo. The sailors were casting odd glances. "We can heal any of you – is anyone hurt? I can mend all your clothing. Please, I'll do anything! Anything you can think of, my magic will do!"

The captain dropped the cargo once they were on board, and he barked an order in Antivan to one of his men, who came and grabbed it. The men began to move, as Captain Pena stepped over Bethany and reached for her cheek. "Do not offer what you should not give."

Bethany's cheeks flushed under his touch, and she took a step back. "M-my sister has given up so much to protect us. It seems that it's my turn."

Pena chuckled darkly and shook his head. "I will not take those things, cara." He exhaled a heavy breath, looking up through the battened sails of his ship, before his eyes strayed out to sea. "What is a better way to die – by sea, or by a templar's blade?"

"You – you won't turn us in?"

The captain turned and called a few more orders, and the sailors sprang to life, calling to their counterparts on shore. "My men may kill me if they find out, but no."

"Blessed Andraste!" Bethany said, and threw her arms around the man. He sighed heavily as she embraced him, her lips by his ear. "I cannot thank you enough."

"I'm inclined to agree," the man grumbled, shaking his head. He pulled her away with a sigh. "Get your sister and her men out of our way."

Bethany slunk out of the way as the crew came to life, pressing against the gunwale alongside Varric and his grace, when she saw Hawke come out of the hold. "Sister!"

"What did you say to that man?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at Bethany.

"You aren't the only one who knows how to woo men with your wiles, you know," she replied, lifting her chin up.

Hawke laughed and ducked out of the way, before they were ushered farther back along the ship. She looked ashore as the gangplank was raised, the air filled with the call and quip of the sailors as the sails whipped free, and deck thundered with rope and boot. The cloth snapped taut in the wind. It was then she saw the glint of steel – of the sword of mercy on shore. Her laughter became more panicked, bordering on insane. "See? See, look at that!"

"Stay down!" Anders said, and pinned her back against the wall, his head snapping to look where the templars were coming down on dock. The ship nudged beneath them, groaning as the fierce wind clipped the sails and tugged it an arm's reach from the dock.

"I just... I just want to wave," Hawke said, craning her neck to see. She laughed again, letting him hold her back out of sight. "And then watch their heads pop in frustration."

The sailors were yelling at each other, and the boat buoyed in the wind as it pulled them farther. The templars were on the docks now – unable to catch their quarry as it blew away.

"Too damned close," Varric groaned, sinking back wall of the captain's cabin. The mabari between them sunk onto deck, a groan in his throat. They cleared the quay, and the boom swung, the snap of cloth filling taut following it and the sailor's cries. He sunk back and closed his eyes, paling as the boat swung on the waves.

Hawke finally pulled from Anders' graps, looking back to shore to see the templar's frantic movements. Wiping the spray of water from her face she looked about, she dodged a man as he ran to grab hold of a shroud. She stumbled to catch her footing, and hurried haphazardly to Captain Pena's side, where the man was referencing a brass instrument strapped to the inside of his arm.

"Captain, we can't thank you e-"

The captain dropped his arm and back-handed Hawke across the cheek. "Shut your mouth!"

"Who do you think you are!" Anders called, trying to stand upright as the ship pitched into a wave. The water sluiced across the deck, darkening the wood. The sailors paid them scarce any heed.

"No – no," Hawke said, putting a hand to her reddened face. "I deserved that."

"You deserve more for what you've pitched us into," he grumbled and looked out to sea. There were dark clouds piling upon each other, and he narrowed his eyes in the wind. He snagged Hawke by the collar and walked her back towards his cabin, pulling Anders with him. "The three of you will do whatever my men need of you. You've bade me to sail into a spring storm."

"Yes, messere," Hawke replied, regaining her footing and meeting his eyes. "Anything at all."

Captain Pena touched Bethany's shoulder as he kicked open the door to his cabin. "Go inside."

"I want to help," she said, her expression hardening at the man.

"You help best by staying out of sight," he said, and gripped her shoulder to push her in the door. He snapped at his grace, and the hound followed her with a snarl at the man. The captain turned to a dark-skinned crewman that waited, and snapped off an order in Antivan. "We take the channel to Long Island, perhaps we may yet weather it if we reach the cove I know."

"Thank you," Hawke said, and pressed her lips flat.

"Indeed. But we've lost your templars, neh?" The captain looked at her, and his hazel eyes softened. "I had a brother like her, you know? He couldn't keep it. They killed him."

"I can't let that happen. I'll die before she does," Hawke replied, glancing at the captain's door as it was blocked closed.

"You may yet!" Pena replied, striding away and pointing at a man, whom barked orders at them along the deck.

Struggling on the waves, it was more than once the ship pitched and Hawke caught Anders from falling. The wind drowned out most of their words, and frigid rain pelted from the skies, making the decks treacherous. Falling on the gunwale, Hawke near hyper-ventilated in the cold, and held a rope steady alongside Varric and Anders, as the sailors hurried to secure any excess. She lost sight of land, and the skies darkened further, blurring time together in cold, wet, and wind.

When the skies began to rumble in earnest, Hawke found herself gripping the main mast alongside Anders, legs jelly as the sea had her way with them. She saw Captain Pena amongst them, the men working in tandem to finish trimming and battening the schooner. The rain came at them sideways, and made it difficult to see, but she saw Varric nearby clutching the gunwale – out of the way, and out of the sea.

There was a flurry of activity as Pena ran by, a cry on his lips.

"The anchor," was all Anders got out in the wind, and the ship hit a wave, the water sluicing over them and renewing the drenching cold. The deck lurched, a great keening in the air as their momentum shifted, and the dark day crackled lightning. There were shadows on the horizon, lost in the whorl of grey and rain, as the ship's dropped anchor dragged and caught, slowing the erratic chaos of the run in the storm.

The air clattered with the fury of the skies, and lit with jagged forks of lightning as Hawke dry-heaved. The sloop pitched on a wave, and the world tossed, and she wound her arm into the rope around the mast to keep from washing away. Across the deck, another was not so fortunate. There was another flash of light, illuminating as Varric lost hold, and Hawke screamed his name, the sound torn away by the gale. Water sluiced across the deck as a wave hit them, and the man was gone.

"Varric!" Hawke almost pulled free as she hoarsely cried again, but Anders caught her and bunkered down, the ship bucking with renewed vigour to pitch them into the froth and malicious sea. "VARRIC!"


	23. E

Varric clutched the rock as he wretched on the salty water in his lungs.

Had he been a normal dwarf, he wouldn't be in this sort of situation. Were he anything but extraordinary, he obviously wouldn't have survived. If he'd had two sovereigns of sense, he'd have never clipped the pickpocket who stole Hawke's coin purse all those years ago.

With one last ounce of strength, he hauled himself onto the slick jut of the shoreline and collapsed into a tidal puddle. He rolled and looked at the sky, huffing and choking on water as some feeling came back into his frigid, aching limbs.

It was only when he woke again, that he realized that he'd blacked out.

Fortunate, he thought. Though maybe drowning would have been more so.

He groaned and sat up, squinting in the morning light and shielding his face from the harsh spring wind with the damp collar of his coat. The rocky, worn coastline was unrecognizable, and there wasn't a scrap of civilization in sight. Looking out to sea, he saw nothing but the expansive water, dark and ribbed with petty waves, a veiled threat in its own way.

But no ship. A smatter of wispy, ashen clouds clung on the far horizon, but there was no sign of the Insolent Minx. Panic rose in his chest as he smacked and found Bianca absent. The throbbing in his temples deepened as Varric spun to look around the shore.

Memories of battering waves and the rush of water in his ears flickered in his thoughts, his hands clutching the crossbow like a lifeline. Hawke screaming, and the dark and cold.

"Shit," he croaked, and twisted to look across the rocky beach again. He noticed he was bleeding from a ragged tear down his pant leg. Elsewhere too. The edges of his coat were tattered – more than they had been before – and the hem was unravelled. He pulled a length of seaweed out of his chest hair.

No mage to patch him up. No Hawke to mock him. No Sunshine in the sky.

Varric looked up into the bright, washed-out blue, blinking slowly as he stood there.

He'd be damned if he was going to lose her too.

When he finally stumbled upon her at sunset, Varric collapsed onto his knees and gathered the battered crossbow close.

"Don't worry, beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse and dry. His short fingers traced over Bianca's cracked stirrup and shredded string. "Papa's here."

Looking at the sea again, Varric sighed heavily and picked up his crossbow. Cradling her, he stood there for a moment, waiting, but unseeing.

If nothing else, he thought, the Free Marches were consistent. He'd find a road on the coast eventually.

"Had enough of templars and mages, anyway," Varric whispered, his voice broken. Finally, he turned inland.

* * *

><p>Varric slunk into the shadows, covering his face as a wet cough rattled his lungs. The brick wall was warmed from the sun, though the light had moved on. Each breath was laboured, but somehow he sunk into silence. The templars were moving nearby. Marching through. They didn't linger long anymore - knew better than to pick at scabs when other wounds were being made.<p>

He hurried across the docks, and pulled the hood on his coat up to conceal his features. There were cries coming from nearby - he knew too well the sound of a mob. Against his better sense, something drew him down the alley - though not beyond, he might be half-idiot, but he wasn't stupid - there was fighting in the square.

A group was tearing down the statue. He couldn't make out what was said, and there was little sense in deciding who was who in the push and spat words. When the bolts securing it groaned and rent, the Champion toppled, and the reverberations of its fall echoed throughout the docks and left a ringing in your ears.

Varric turned away, expression hardening to block the small part inside of him that was crushed too.

Flicking his fingers away to wipe the ink on a cloth, Varric chuckled and glanced up to Aveline from the babe in his arms. "She's growing up far too quickly."

"They say that's the way of things," Aveline replied, crossing her arms and watching her daughter grab a fistful of the dwarf's chest hair. She chuckled, but weariness crept back into her features. "I'll send word once we've settled."

Varric made a sound and disentangled the babe's hand. He glanced up to her. "I'll be sure to have a good back story for what happened to the infamous Captain of the Guard."

Aveline groaned and shook her head, even as she reached to take the girl back. Hoisting her onto her hip, she levelled a stern gaze at him. "I'd rather you kept me out of it."

"Of course, of course," Varric said, and let his gaze drift. "They prefer the stories of happier times anyway, when she's a man lapping from the palm of her hand."

A flicker of temper in her eyes, Aveline let it go, unable to keep the sadness from creeping back in. She cradled the babe to her chest, fingers up the back of her neck and into the soft, fiery hair that graced her head. "Take care of yourself, mm?"

"Worry not about me," Varric said, smiling and giving the child a pat. "Worry about what matters."

Donnic turned from his place by the window, dropping the curtain back in place as he cleared his throat.

"Don't stay here," Aveline said in a rush, turning back from the door. "It isn't safe."

"When you find somewhere that is, let me know."

* * *

><p>"From that day on, I don't think I saw Blondie sleep through the night. There was always the same haunted look in his eyes - the knowledge of what could come from the curse in his blood," Varric said, his hands animate with his words.<p>

"The badlands you say?" said an elf sitting at the table. They were crowded by the fire on the chaise and pillows, with tankards and biscuits scattered around them.

"Mmhmm," Varric replied, propping a foot up on the table. "Oh you could try and find it - the Wardens would stop you before you even caught wind. But on a clear day, if you miss their patrols, you can see the spire from Drier's Cleft. Travel at night, and you might even still see the tower's glow - remnants of the power the darkspawn lord held over the place-"

A rap on the door caught their attention, and a serving girl appeared, her gaze a frightful white. "Varric..."

"Best keep quiet," Varric said to his audience, and ushered her back out towards the stairs. "Just act normal, beautiful." He swung the door shut without further word and dropped the bar to barricade it. Glancing back to the patrons, he arched his brow and smirked, a silencing finger over his lips.

The boards overhead creaked with the steady march of boots, the clatter and din of plate and steel muffled. Varric tilted his head to listen, eyes roaming amongst the half-drunk men and women, pleasantly surprised by their acquiescence. Their eyes drifted up, unable to decipher the muted, but raised voices that filtered through.

It was some time before a distinct pattern knocked on the floor, and Varric waved the quiet away. "Where was I..."

"What were they looking for?" the elf asked, hiccupping part way through.

"Mages," Varric said, and half-rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Need anyfin?"<p>

It was a few moments before Varric looked up, doing a double take. The candles on the table had burnt low, and the wax was spilt in knotted pools. He rolled the peppered quill in his fingers, offering a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oodles. But it can wait."

"Bolt the door, eh?

"You can count on it," he replied, and reluctantly relinquished his quill to stand and follow her to the door. "See? All is well."

The serving girl glanced past him towards the wide tome on the table as she tied her hair beneath a kerchief. "Always writin'. Is it the stories? About the bird?"

"A troublesome cuckoo," Varric replied with a chuckle, "Be careful out there."

"Aw, don' worry about me, messere," the girl said and scoffed, before disappearing up the stairs. "Don't know who'd read such a thing anyway..."

Varric shut the door and bolted it, listening for a few moments before turning back to the table. He sat heavily into the chair, sighing as he dragged a finger over the portrait on the parchment.

* * *

><p><em>Varric's head rolled, the sound of his feet dragging on the floor a constant compared to the chink and metered step of his captors. The light shifted, a pair of lanterns burning into view and forcing his eyes closed again. Through the dark he was deposited in a chair, and sinking heavy against the stone and wood, he shook his head and his struggled to focus within the pillar of light that he sat.<em>

_ "I've had gentler invitations," he said, and cleared his throat, touching where his head throbbed. There was the crinkle of parchment, and an armoured woman stepped out of the shadows. His book was in her hands._

_ "I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry..."_

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_._

**A/N:** Had this been a book, you'd have seen this coming. You'd have been looking at how few pages were left (at least I know I do), a bit frantic to learn how the story would end in such a short time. But I wouldn't have ended a book this way I think hah. In the end (and to me), this was always Varric's story – all of it was.

Thanks for reading my work, I hope you enjoyed it more than anything – it's hard to 'put the pen down' on Anders/Hawke/Varric, I think they're one of my favourite trio's I've written about. I'll miss them.


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